Talking 'bout My Girl
by Eisee does it
Summary: After a cold dispute with Blaine, Kurt takes their adopted daughter back to Lima for the summer. But what happens when he finds out that his beautiful little girl is Karofsky's long-lost daughter? Future-fic, Klaine. Kurtofsky.
1. Unexpected Visitors

Talking 'bout My Girl

Summary: After a cold dispute with Blaine, Kurt takes their adopted daughter back to Lima for the summer. But what happens when he finds out that his beautiful little girl is Karofsky's long-lost daughter? Future-fic, Klaine. Kurtofsky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, nor am I associated with anyone or anything related to it.

Rating: PG 13 for strong language. May progress to M in later chapters.

Warning: Incredibly AU. Strong language. Um...I killed off one of the original characters, but it was necessary for the plot, I swear. Oh, and I don't have a beta, so yeah...sorry for any grammar mistakes.

This isn't related to my other story, "The Next Time I See You". Actually, the idea for this was generated after re-watching Kurt's interactions with his Dad. Just wondered what might happen if Kurt got a kid he didn't really expect either.

Chapter 1

Unexpected Visitors

Mercedes Jones always knew that Kurt would return. She didn't know when or how he'd come back to little old Lima, but she knew he'd be back. She was sure of it just as sure as she knew her blood. What she never expected however, was that he'd show up at the front doors of her church with a single coach suitcase and a tiny little girl clinging to his top-of-the-line designer pants.

At first Mercedes blamed the glaring sunlight for messing with her eyes. But all it took was for him to call her name.

"Mercedes?" He said it weakly, as if he hadn't spoken in awhile. But regardless of how soft he said it, she'd recognize that voice anywhere. And (in her opinion), it was far too long since she'd last heard it. She just stared at him, unsure of how to react or what to say. Right before her was the boy she called her best friend, the one she'd had lady chats and sleepovers with, the one who helped get the slushie goop out of her hair countless times, the one she could talk to about anything and everything, and the very one who just up and left without so much as a good-bye twelve damn years ago.

"Kurt!" A huge smile spread across her face. She dropped the stack of choir folders she was carrying, opened up her arms, and hugged her friend so tightly the breath leapt out of him, "Oh my God, I can't believe it! Wha-what's going on? When did you get back?"

"Just this morning actually," Kurt said, a small smile of his own beaming through his long, side-swept bangs. Her reaction was a hundred times better than he'd hoped for. He half expected her to not even acknowledge him, or worse, lash out at him with all the fury he knew he deserved. It was unsettling how easily she welcomed him, like it was too good to be true, like any minute she would suddenly start cursing and hating him like any normal person would. But then again, this was Mercedes. And she always proved to be a fabulous friend. Kurt felt sick suddenly, unsure of what to do or say, knowing that her acceptance made his betrayal all the more bitter.

"Sorry," Kurt said, "I should have told you I was coming. I just-"

"White boy, coming in unannounced is what divas do." Mercedes placed her hands on her hips and held her head high, "And they don't apologize. Now take a deep breath because I'm gonna make sure you have enough hugs to last for the next god damn twelve years!"

"Oh, I missed you so much Cedes,"He returned her hugs with just as much fervor.

"Damn right! How the hell did you last that long without calling me up?"

Kurt's face turned down quickly, clearly embarrassed. His cheeks were bright red, making him look even more like a doll. If anything, the years were very good to Kurt, hardly aging him except for the dark circles beneath his eyes.

"Mercedes...not to sound trite, but it's a long story." Kurt said. He had one hand clenched around the handle of the suitcase, and other one trying to keep a hold of a very active little girl.

"Well let's start here," Mercedes bended down and smiled at the bouncing child, "What's your name sweetie?" The little girl immediately stopped and stared at the stranger before her, looking back and forth between Mercedes and Kurt.

"It's okay sweetie," Kurt gave her a gentle nudge forward, "She's Daddy's best friend. Auntie Cedes,"

"Oh my! What a pretty little niece I have. She's got Daddy's sassy style alright," Mercedes laughed, modeling a little bit, her poses making the child's chubby face erupt with smiles.

"How did you not tell me you had a kid?" Mercedes couldn't help but pinch the child's cheeks, "She's so adorable."

The girl's long dark blond hair was pulled back in a bright green and blue headband, the colors nearly the same mix as her dress. Or at least it should have been, if the dress wasn't splattered in dirt and mud.

The girl kept one hand attached to Kurt while her other arm clenched a raggedy teddy bear that looked like it'd seen much better days. Mercedes frowned a bit when she noticed the child's hand was slightly bandaged. The little girl seemed to realize this and instead of pulling away from embarrassment, she stepped forward and thrust the hand to Mercedes' face, showing off the injury.

"She's got a bit of a wild side," Kurt explained, "Set her loose on an anything that has grass and dirt and she'll be a human dust bunny in a second."

"What happened to your hands sweetie?" Mercedes asked. The child looked up at Kurt. The former countertenor sighed.

"She's a bully magnet. Takes that after me I guess," Kurt explained.

"Poor baby," Mercedes said. To her surprise, Kurt laughed.

"Don't Cedes. She's not the one you should feel sorry for. It's her bullies." Kurt lifted up the bandaged hand, "The first wrist broke because this boy pushed her off the slide. The second wrist broke because she punched him hard enough to break his nose. It was a fiasco at the principal's office. Seven years old and she's already giving me heart attacks with all the craziness she gets into."

"Oh really? That much of a trouble maker?"

"By the gods of Prada, you have no idea. But if it wasn't for her and shopping, I'd probably go insane."

It was so long since she'd heard Kurt speak like that. Mercedes never thought that Kurt would be the fathering type, being the eccentric diva that he was. It was both bizarre and heart warming to see him with a kid, especially one who seemed so unlike him.

"So where's Blaine? Where are you staying and for how long? We have got to catch up, and I mean, really, really, catch up, I wanna know everything that's been going on with you. Everything!"

"Well for starters...Blaine's not with us, he's somewhere else, probably flying over Europe or Asia or wherever else he'd rather be." Kurt said, trying to keep his smile steady even though his voice broke. Mercedes felt her stomach sink. She knew that look. It was the 'I'm going to be strong and happy even though I wanna scream and cry right now' look. Kurt had worn it so many times she had it memorized.

"And as for how long we're staying...I really don't know. And I was hoping that maybe we could stay with you. Just for a few days before we find our own place."

"Wait Kurt, are you moving back to Lima? Do your parents even know you're here? I thought you and Blaine-"

"I don't know. I mean, there's just so much I have to think about. I thought that maybe going back to Lima for a little while might do me some good. Before I make any more stupid decisions. And no, Dad and Carole don't know I'm here. I don't want them to. And least not yet. And I perfer not to talk about Blaine right now ." Kurt nodded towards his daughter. Mercedes understood.

"Well you can stay at my place for as long as you want. Think of it as a very long sleepover. Let's get going before Pastor Johnson tries to get me to host prayer meetings again. If old lady Mildred calls out the sins of the person sitting right next to her again, it's going to be disaster of biblical proportions." Mercedes picked up her choir folders and tugged Kurt towards her car.

"Did I ever mention how unnaturally incredible you are?" Kurt said, dragging along his suitcase, his daughter skipping lightly at side side.

"From you and half the world baby. Just let me give this little model of yours a make-over. Put a little more jazz and sass into this hairdo of hers." Mercedes said, tousling the child's long locks before opening the car doors.

"She's got enough sass to go around. You should have seen her. Right after school finished for the year she broke out her neon markers and colored all the ivory keys on the baby grand piano. Blaine was furious." Kurt smirked, tossing the suitcase in the trunk. The little girl held tightly to her teddy bear, her eyes narrowing.

"Don't worry Izzy, I'm not putting Banjo in the trunk. He's riding with us."

The child's face softened immediately and she leaped into the car, patting the seat next to her to indicate that Kurt should sit beside her.

"Hold up. You named her Izzy?" Mercedes figured that if Kurt had any kids he would name them something with a bit more class and pizazz.

"Elizabeth, after my mom" Kurt explained as he stepped into the vehicle, "But she never responds when we call her that."

"At least she doesn't go by a last name basis, ey Hummel?" Mercedes joked. She turned the engine on and they were off. In about two minutes little Izzy was blissfully asleep as she leaned against her Dad, Banjo the teddy bear resting beneath her chin.

"She's such a quiet girl," Mercedes said.

"I make up for it," Kurt said, stroking his daughter's hair from her face.

"And she seems really sweet,"

"She is. I guess that makes two of us."

"What do you mean?"

Kurt was quiet for second. He took a deep breath and gazed out the window, wondering how to tell her without revealing too much.

"It's Blaine. He's not exactly her number one fan. And he's not exactly her cup of tea either. Especially since she hates tea. Actually, she has an unhealthy obsession with slushies."

Mercedes screeched the car to an ear-splitting halt at the red light , gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady her breathing in between the laughs and string of inside jokes she and Kurt were throwing back and forth.

"You serious?" Mercedes raised her finely waxed eyebrow, "You feed her that stuff?"

"At least she doesn't throw it at me!" Kurt laughed, his face flushed red by this point, "Izzy's probably drunk as many slushies as the football team threw at our faces." An angry honk from the car behind them jolted Mercedes onward.

It was weird how easily, jokingly, they could talk about getting slushied now. Back then it was a mark of shame, a messy, cold reminder that they were at the bottom of the scrap heap. Now it just seemed like a mild annoyance.

"I don't know who she got it from. I hate that stuff. And Blaine's always getting on me for letting her get her way. Says I spoil her too much."

Mentioning Blaine's name pulled the brightness out of Kurt's voice. Mercedes bit her lip, wondering why Kurt was trying to hide his true feelings. He'd never been skilled at keeping his feelings secret. Any attempts usually ended with violent words and a harsh walk-out. Kurt was always one to have his emotions stamped clear on his forehead. He'd let anyone and everyone know exactly how he felt at any given time with no second guesses. But this time...This time something felt off. As if Kurt wasn't really ready to confide everything to her yet. And it irked Mercedes. Why did Kurt have to act like such a stranger? Was it because of what happened between New Directions and the Warblers at Regionals all those years ago?

"Listen Kurt, whatever happened before, just know that it's all in the past. We're all over it now."

"I know," Kurt replied, "But I'm not. At least not completely. I was such a jerk to you guys-"

"Hey, divas don't apologize right? Besides, we weren't so civil to you either." Mercedes turned the road and stopped in front of a house with a garden and swing at the front, "But enough of that. Go on in and check out my crib."

* * *

Her crib, as it turns out, was simple yet chic. It wasn't full blown glamorous like the condo Kurt and Blaine shared, but to Kurt it was the most welcome place he'd set foot in in years. The living room was open and spacious, with a piano and several music stands kept to the corner. A pile of sheet music stuck out from brightly colored folders. To the wall, a string of pictures were hung like clothes on a line. Kurt inspected the photos, seeing if he could recognize anyone. They were mostly of children in costumes performing on stage. There were a few grown ups in the pictures too, and he giggled when he recognized a certain curly haired man jumping and clapping wildly in the audience.

Kurt shook his head. He'd figure that all the stress from leading glee club would take it's toll on the guy, but he looked as happy as ever. Older definitely, but undeniably happier.

"You'd think he'd never seen a performance of Wizard of Oz before." Mercedes said. She brought in two glasses of wine. Kurt took a glass and sat beside her on the couch.

"I heard about people taking precautions during parties Cedes, but isn't this a bit much?" Kurt bounced against the coach, or at least the plastic covering wrapped around it like saran wrap.

"Can't be too careful. I learned that very fast after my first week of giving music lessons to those kids. Turn back once and this living room it'll have a random explosion of Sunny D or Cool-Aid, depending on the kid's preference."

"You teach music?"

"Yeah. This house is child proof from the floors to the ceiling. After going on a wild ride around the world for a few years with the Peace Corps, I decided to come back and give these kids something to do besides idolize the jocks and cheerleaders. And Mr. Schue was all too happy to help out, especially since I cast his kid in the lead role for Dorothy. Other parents cried foul, but hey, little miss Schuester's got some pipes for a five year old. Preschool politics is a nasty business I tell you."

"Mr. Schue has a kid?" Kurt blinked. "When did that happen?"

"Sometime after he and ex-Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell hooked up."

"You're kidding me. They got together after all of that?"

"You've been missing out boy," Mercedes said, taking a sip of the wine, "They've got twins. And Mr. Schue may have been a great teacher but he's a horrendous stage dad. Won't be surprised if the poor kids are gonna be as OCD as their mama. But whatever it is he's doing to encourage them, those kids got some crazy talent going on. You know what, why don't you bring Izzy over to the community theater tomorrow to meet them? She'd probably give us the little spark we need to pull off our next show stopper."

Kurt looked down the hall to where the steps were. Izzy was currently sound asleep in the guest room, safely far from their conversation. He let his guard down.

"I don't think that'll be a good idea." Kurt said. He took a huge gulp of wine and quickly refilled his glass, nearly spilling it over.

"Why not?" Mercedes leaned forward. Kurt drank heavily and refilled his glass again.

"Izzy isn't exactly suited for that sort of thing." Kurt sucked his lips in, as if he was trying to keep himself from saying any more.

"Can you be honest with me Kurt?" Mercedes took his glass away from him. She took his hands into her own. He was cold and slightly trembling. "I know it's been years since we were like this. I'm not expecting you to suddenly say everything to me like we used to. But I think that I at least deserve some kind of explanation. Or at least just tell me how you've been. And I mean how you've really been. Just be honest."

Kurt looked up at her. He had a far off look in his eyes, like he wasn't really looking at her, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

"I don't think I can. It'll just throw every mistake I've made right back at my face."

"I care about you Kurt," Mercedes said, holding his hands tightly, "When have I ever judged you? I didn't even hold a grudge when you left us and joined the Warblers. Sure I was mad by what happened at Regionals and Nationals, but that didn't mean I stopped caring for you. I was worried for you Kurt. I want to help. We're best friends remember?"

"You're something else you know?" Kurt said, "If you did the things I did I would have been too furious to even look at you again. Probably throw my heels at you the next time I see you."

"Oh, come here." Mercedes smiled and pulled her friend close and allowed his head to rest on her strong shoulders, partly to show him that she really had forgiven him, but mostly because she couldn't bear the sight of him crying.

"I fucked up," Kurt whispered, "I fucked up so fucking badly. I don't know what I'm going to do." He sobbed and Mercedes could no nothing but wrap her warm arms around him.

"Hey, it's going to be okay. You're Kurt Hummel damn it. You can get through anything. Do you want me to call your Dad, tell him your here? He's been missing you so much. Last time I talked to him he said that he would go to New York to see you if you didn't show up for Christmas again."

"No!" Kurt shook his head furiously, "I don't think I can show my face to him again. Not after all the things I said to him. God Mercedes! I was so stupid! So fucking stupid..."

"He'll understand. We all do. Mike, Sam, Quinn, they were all looking for you at the reunion two years ago. Hell, even Puckerman wondered when you'd pop up to steal the spotlight. Kurt, whatever bad feelings we had against you are done with. It was twelve years ago. We moved on."

"But I haven't! I made so many mistakes, and for twelve years I've been feeling just how wrong those mistakes are. I shouldn't have run away. I shouldn't have taken the easy way out. I'm such a fucking idiot..."

"Will you stop calling yourself that?" Mercedes snapped, but she still held Kurt tightly.

"Fine then, because I go by many other names now. I'm a coward. A failure. A fucking has been. I wasn't supposed to be this way. I was supposed to go out there, take the whole fucking world by storm with my flaming red heels. Prove to my Dad and everyone else that I can be happy just the way I am. Blaine and I were supposed to prove that a gay couple can be happily in love. But all we proved was that we could be just as miserable as any other couple out there. Wonderful. Just outstanding."

"Kurt...it's okay. You'll be okay, I promise." Mercedes didn't know what else to say.

"I just can't believe that I traded you, my Dad, and my friends just to chase some fantasy with him." Kurt forced the words out harshly. His tears fell silently.

"You were in love. You would have done anything for Blaine." Mercedes said, stopping herself short before she could bring up just how far Kurt went for the guy during the now infamous Nationals of 2012.

"I gave up all the people I loved to be with this perfect, amazing gay man and at the end...it was all a mistake. I turned by back on you guys and it was nothing to him. I can't believe how fucking stupid I was, thinking that he could do the same for me. I wanted for him to do the same for me."

"But you came back. He didn't have the last note." Mercedes said.

"You know, he wasn't even there when I packed up and left with Izzy. I didn't have the guts to actually leave him. He's been busy abroad. I was hoping that he'd call to see how we are but...nothing. Just absolutely nothing. I was at his beck and call for so damn long and he won't even give me a phone call to see how I'm doing? It's just so messed up. I just couldn't take how cold he was."

Over the years, Mercedes had learned a great deal of patience. From being in the Peace Corps and teaching hyperactive children, she thought she'd have enough self-control to keep her anger issues in check. But seeing her best friend cry was pushing it too far. Kurt wasn't perfect in the very least. But if there was one thing he was, it was passionate. When he loved someone, he poured out his affection and devotion to them to the point of obsession. And the thought that someone could take all that and just treat him so coldly made her blood burn.

"I don't know why I was so determined to leave my family and friends. Fine I thought, I'll be better off without you guys. I had Blaine." He laughed bitterly, "It was amazing the first few years. I had everything I hoped for. Worked at a magazine as a fashion editor, hit up Broadway ever chance I got, waltzed down Times Square on brazen shopping sprees. But then it got...lonely."

"Oh Kurt..."

"Blaine was spending so much time at his father's company. It was world war three every day at the office. I would go for nearly weeks without seeing Blaine. And when we were together it was just..."

"Okay, what did that bastard do to you cause I'm about to go to wherever his office is and set fire to the place."

"No. He wasn't violent. He was just cold. Like I wasn't even there anymore. I mean, he'd joke around. I'd laugh. But it was all distant. I was so desperate for something to rekindle what we had. Or to save what was left."

"Oh god, is that why you had Izzy?"

"Oh no, no. Having a kid was the last thing on my mind. But I made friends with Izzy's mother, and for the first time in a long time I had someone I could actually talk to. Her name was Marian. She had no family, and she didn't want to talk about the ex who knocked her up. She died shortly after giving birth to Izzy. Complications with eclampsia. I couldn't just let the kid wander around from place to place so I adopted her.

"What did Blaine think?"

"He told me that he couldn't possibly give up time to take care of her. He had a business to salvage. And I couldn't take care of her because of my hectic schedule at the publication company. It was either quit my job to take care of her, or turn her over to the social worker. So I quit. Bet he didn't think I could actually do it. It was a lot of fun actually. I walked out on the team a week before their big deadline with Vogue. That's what they get for being such pricks."

"Do you have any regrets?" Mercedes asked. Kurt shook his head.

"Enough to fill the moon. But I will never, never regret Izzy. She brought back a part of me I really missed. She was my little doll. Actually, she's more like an angel in sneakers. I'd dress her up and sing songs to her. I made sure she had everything a kid could ever need. Sent her to the best schools, took her to the best plays. And whenever I felt lonely or depressed, she would somehow know. She's just a kid but she knows just how to cheer me up," Kurt smiled a bit, thinking of the antics she'd get into just to make him feel better, "Sometimes I even think she annoys Blaine on purpose because she knows I don't have the nerve to speak up to him. Like it's her job to defend me. She gave me someone to love. She reminded me that there was someone other than Blaine. That my world didn't have to revolve around him. I realized that I could be happy again."

"She sounds wonderful." Mercedes said softly.

Kurt nodded, breathing deeply. He rested his head against her shoulders, allowing the last of his sobs to die out.

"I don't know what you must think of me. I'm too scared too. I've run away from so many of my problems, now they've all piled up like a mountain of wrecked cars in front of my face. Only this time, I didn't go alone. I have her. I chose her."

"What do you mean?"

"Blaine gave me a choice." Kurt sat up, sweeping his bangs to the side. The words fell hard on his lips, "He didn't say it directly, but I'm not as stupid as he'd like to think. He's been giving me these little ultimatums ever since Izzy came into our lives. My career or taking care of Izzy. Trips with him through Europe or sending her to the best school we could afford. Him or her."

"And you chose her. Goodness Kurt, did he kick you out?"

"No. He doesn't even know that I left yet. I'm not saying that Blaine's a horrible guy. He's not. He's just different from what I expected. I don't want to choose between the two of them. I love them too much."

"So what are you going to do if he comes looking for you two?"

"I don't know. I'm still hoping we can work this out. We have to work this out. There's no other way. I can't loose my family. I don't think I can handle that."

_You have a family right here in Lima! And while you were off polishing Blaine's shoes, we've been worried about where you were. And now you've come back crying about how he's treated you and you still want to crawl back to him? _Mercedes wanted to scream. She held back her tongue. God knows how much she wanted to knock some reason into him. But instead she just kept silent. She didn't want Kurt to think she was still mad at him. Kurt didn't need another reason to run away again.

In the brief time she'd seen her best friend, she knew that there was way more Kurt wasn't telling her. Never, in all her life, had she seen Kurt cry this much. Sure, there were moments were he moped and whined, but he never sobbed so much that he couldn't breathe, or cried so much that his eyes were bloodshot. Hell, even when he was bullied so severely that he had to leave for his life, he'd rather walk out than to show how much it hurt him. Now simply talking about what happened in New York made him sob like maniac. It angered her that Kurt was reduced to this. Her Kurt was strong, proud, and resilient. He wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Kurt, take all the time you need. You and Izzy can stay here for as long as you want. Just please, please don't run away again."

Kurt didn't make promises, but he did squeeze her hand. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Mercedes.

"Look, while you're here, you can just forget about what happened in New York. Give it some distance. Besides, it might be good time for you to catch up with the rest of the gang. It might not be obvious, but a lot has changed since you left."

"They're here?"

"Well, some of them. All of us left at some point, but I guess Lima just kinda grows on you. And I even teach some of their kids. You got to introduce them to Izzy," Mercedes' face brightened, grateful for the change in subject, "And I bet it'll be a hot second before Mr. Schue decides to make a group from all the New Directions kids. Hell, if Izzy picked up a fraction of your talent, she'll steal the show and then some. We just gotta get her out of her shell a little more. And if anyone could get her to sing out, it's Schuester."

"I don't think that'll go through very well," Kurt said, his hands fumbling with themselves. He stared at the wall plastered with pictures, taking in all the things he had missed and could never be a part of.

"And why not?" Mercedes asked, failing to see the disappointment in Kurt's gaze, the longing that filled his watery green eyes as he stared into the photos.

"As much as I'd love to see her own that stage and everyone on it...it just won't happen." Kurt got up and picked up the empty glasses, unwilling to look Mercedes in the face."She won't speak. Not to Blaine, or her teachers, or anybody. And I doubt she ever will."

* * *

Mercedes rubbed her forehead, quietly cursing herself for letting things get this far. She glanced up at the glaring red numbers on the clock. 4:00 AM. And she hadn't gotten a single blink of sleep yet. She tossed away the pillows beneath her, caught between frustration and just plain exhaustion. Try as she might, she couldn't help but feel responsible for what happened to Kurt. Maybe if she'd reach out to him more he wouldn't have felt the need to run away with Blaine. Or maybe it wouldn't matter. Kurt was head over heels in love with the guy. And when Kurt was in love, there was no reasoning with him

But as infuriating as Kurt was when he was in love, a heart broken Kurt was much, much worse. Mercedes gripped her hair, not caring anymore how long it'll take her to fix it in the morning. She needed some god damn sleep! Pushing the immense sheets away from her, she plopped one foot after the other on the ground and dragged herself towards the door. She needed to pop some cold medicine into her system. Not much, but just enough to knock her out for a few hours before she'd have to adjust to the fact that Kurt was currently taking refuge in her house.

She opened her door and stopped short. The soft rustle of shuffling feet patted in the kitchen. There was the sound of the fridge opening and closing, and of paper towels being torn. A few seconds later, she saw a tiny figure dressed in a light pink pajamas walking stealthily down the hall like one on a serious mission. One tiny arm carefully held a cartoon of the milk, the other one held an empty glass. The little kid also had one edge of the paper towels pinched between her lips as she carried everything towards the guest room.

"What is going on with that child?" Mercedes mumbled. Izzy certainly was a strange one. As quietly as she could, the music teacher tip toed after her. Making sure Izzy wouldn't see her, Mercedes waited a few minutes after the child entered the guest room before peeking in.

Kurt was wrapped in a thin blanket, his body shaking. He was sobbing in his sleep, muttering softly in his dream. Meanwhile, Izzy was busy pouring milk from the carton into the glass, no easy feat with her bandaged wrist. The girl climbed on the bed and pulled the blanket from her Dad, tugging him on the shoulder to wake him up. He rolled away but she continued on, almost pushing him off the bed to jolt him from his dream.

"Stop!" Kurt's eyes flew open, wide and soaked with tears. Izzy jumped back, nearly bumping into the table where she'd place the glass of milk.

"Oh no baby, I'm so sorry." Kurt buried his face into his hands, "I wasn't mad at you. Daddy was just having another nightmare."

When he looked up, Izzy was sitting beside him with a full glass of milk in her hands. She shrugged with a wide smile and handed him the glass, practically thrusting it in his face as she did.

"Come here you," Kurt took the glass from her and set it down. She climbed straight into his arms and leaned contently against him. He took her hands in his, his fingers brushing over the bandages wrapped around her little wrists. Kurt sighed and rocked the child gently back and forth. He hummed softly above her head, resting his cheek lightly on the top of the dark blonde waves.

"We'll be ok, won't we Izzy?" Kurt whispered. Izzy tried moving her fingers and wrists to respond back in sign language, but the bandages were being a nuisance. She smiled up at him with a quirky little grin, shrugged, and snuggled closer to her Dad.

"We'll be ok," He whispered, rocking her gently. Izzy gave a silent yawn, her green eyes fluttering close. As the child drifted up into a stubborn sleep, Kurt gathered her in his arms, chanting the same promise over and over, "We'll be ok."

Mercedes decided right then that she needed to do something aggressive to help Kurt. She stepped aside and allowed him to do whatever he pleased last time and look where it got him. He couldn't go on like this. If he didn't have the courage to show himself to his family and friends, then maybe they could bring themselves to him. And damn right it was about time the boy heard what they've been wanting to say ever since that night twelve years ago when he'd betrayed them. And it was also time for them to hear his story as well. They deserved at least that.

So without thinking twice, Mercedes whipped out her cell phone. There was no way in hell Kurt was going to crawl back to whatever life he ran away from. And now that he's back home, there was no fucking way Mercedes was going to give him up without a fight. After all, fighting is what divas do best.

A/N: It's depressing, but just hang on for the rest of it. And no, Blaine's not going to be evil in this fic, just human. For those wondering what happened to my other story, the next update for "The Next Time I See You" will be up within the next week. I'm not sure when I'll update this one though, it depends on the feedback. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Let me know what you think :)


	2. Hit and Runs

A/N: Thanks for the alerts, reviews, and feedback! Such awesome support. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism, suggestions, and advice. Sorry for the delay, but I'm waiting til Season 2 ends to continue work on "The Next Time I See You". This story will take up most of my fanfiction focus for now.

This story keeps in line with cannon events until Season 2's "Original Song" episode. After that, it derails from canon. Thanks for your patience.

Chapter 2

Hit and Runs

"I don't think it's a good idea Mercedes."

"Of course it's a good idea. I helped organize it. You doubting my skills boy?" Mercedes slipped another plate of toast on the table. She sat beside Kurt, nudging the flyer towards him.

**Summer Smash Spectacular! **screamed in bright red across the page. Pictures of giant balloons, carnival games, sugar-induced children, and various music groups were squashed into the page, promising a day of "family fun and laughter."

"I love you Cedes, but I am not taking Izzy to one of these things." Kurt held up the brightly colored flyer, "We went to one before and it was a disaster. The health department came and shut the place down right when Izzy was in the middle of her slushie. And that was after the police came to arrest a questionable clown. So no way. Izzy's not setting foot in there."

"Kurt, you know most of the people in this town. Half the organizers come from our school. They won't do anything sketchy. And if they tried, they'd have to deal with me. I got some of my kids going there. If anything happened to one of them I'd throw a fit. And you know no one wants to see _the_ Mercedes Jones throw a fit." Mercedes hugged him playfully, "Come on Kurt, it'll be fun. You might even get to see our old classmates. We can talk about how much more fabulous we turned out...you know you want to."

As pleasing as at it sounded, Kurt's mind quickly veered to something else.

"Any New Directions alumni making an appearance?" He stirred his coffee fast enough to spill it.

"Um...maybe, who knows." Mercedes said, glancing at her cell phone, hoping that they had gotten her text, "But we were tons better than the kids has right now. You think we had drama? I subbed once for the poor guy. Those kids make soap operas look like something off of playhouse Disney. But enough of that. We have to take Izzy to the fair. She'll love it! They have moon bounces, face painting, and a dozen contests. And hell, they even have those water dunk tanks. And all the tots you can eat! How the hell can anyone say no to that?"

"I know what they do in these things Mercedes. I grew up here. My Dad would drag me to those fairs all the time. And I'm very well versed with the dust, dirt, and stink that comes with it. Not to mention the food they sell has more grease than a car shop." Kurt took another bite of toast, "There's no way I'm going there."

"Is it about the fair itself or is it something else?" Mercedes asked, "Cause I think you're scared that if you go, you might actually enjoy it."

"Sorry Cedes, but being surrounded by funnel cakes, grease, and slushies just isn't my thing." Kurt's eyes widened when he realized his mistake. At the mention of slushies, the prompt rush of excited feet bounced down the hall. Izzy slid into the kitchen with her bright pink pajamas, climbed onto Kurt's lap, reached up, and hugged him so tightly he almost choked on his toast.

"Izzy, baby. Daddy needs to breathe." Kurt laughed, "Oh no sweetie. Don't look at me like that. Don't."

Too late. Izzy kissed him countless times on the cheeks, smiling widely as she did. Her bright green eyes were pleading with him. It couldn't have been clearer if she'd said it. She really wanted to go. Mercedes took her cue.

"And that's not all they have. Ever been on a flying carousel Izzy? It's the best. And they have all sorts of games. Bet you'll run them clean of prizes if you played. Ever had deep fried ice cream?"

Izzy's eyes grew even larger with hunger. She shook her head and took the flyer from Mercedes, greedily looking at the pictures.

"You let her have slushies but not deep fried ice cream? Nuh uh, Kurt, we gotta fix that. Come on Izzy, get your shoes."

Kurt shot a warning look at his best friend, but before he could object Izzy thrust the flyer at his face. She waved the paper with uncontrollable excitement, pointing to the pictures of sack races and water gun games. Kurt sighed. He stroked her hair back, calming her down. She fell into his embrace but her tiny hand still clenched the paper.

"You really want to go?" Kurt asked. Izzy nodded, her hands folded in prayer. Kurt glanced worriedly over her bandaged hands, "What about your hands? I don't want you getting hurt again."

Izzy balled her hands into fists and pounded them together. She just smiled and waved at him and Mercedes, as if to prove that she was strong enough to take it.

"You're such a tough girl in pink. Where in the world do you get it from?" Kurt asked. His daughter giggled and pointed at him.

"That's my girl," He laughed softly, "Alright. We'll go. But only for a little while. And after you finish your breakfast first. Deal?"

Izzy promptly jumped from his lap and pulled herself up on the seat next him. With horrifying speed she scoffed down the remaining toast, eggs, juice, and finished it all off by swallowing a spoonful of jam. She neatly cleaned up her plate, jumped from her seat, and dashed back to their room to get ready, the sleeves of her over sized pajamas flailing all over the place. All the way, her little hand waved the flyer triumphantly in the air.

"Pushover," Mercedes smiled innocently.

"Is it that obvious?" Kurt asked, picking up the remaining dishes and placing them in the sink.

"What? That she's your weakness? Hell yeah." Mercedes rolled up her sleeves and helped him place the kitchen back in order, "Next to the bandages, she's got you wrapped around her finger."

"She gets me every time. I can't help it. There's something about that kid that just throws me off. But in a good way." Kurt swept his bangs to the side, remembering the quirky things Izzy would do to make him smile after a not-so-perfect "talk" with Blaine, "She can be the most troublesome child in the world. But what people find strange and unsettling about her...I find those things cute. It's weird and maybe I'm biased, which I admit I am... but the things they don't like about her are the things I adore.

"You know who you remind me of right now Kurt?" Mercedes said, hoping he wouldn't shut down when she finished. She took a quick breath, "You remind me of your dad."

"Really? Never thought I'd hear that," Kurt turned away. A tense laugh escaped him, more forced than genuine, "What makes you say that?"

"You're both very good fathers. You're lucky to have your Dad, and Izzy's very lucky to have you. I'll bet anything that if anyone tried to put Izzy down you'll be the first one chasing them down with your most fabulous heels. Just like your dad...minus the heels."

Five awkward minutes passed between them, the only sound being the clinking of plates and running water. Mercedes worried that she might have overstepped it. Kurt was always sensitive, no matter how tough of a face he put up. She'd hope that bringing up Burt would help Kurt talk out his feelings, but now it just seemed to shut him up again. She reached out to get his attention when Izzy flew back into the room. And like her father, she looked like a doll.

Her long blonde hair was carefully combed and tied with two clips that resembled roses. She wore a vibrant red dress with soft grey sleeves. Her cheeks glowed warmly, her hungry anticipation barely enough to control.

"Well, I think we have to enter this little princess into the beauty pageant." Mercedes said.

Izzy's smile dropped. She shook her head furiously, and folded her arms in protest.

"Guess she's not a big fan of the spot light," Mercedes said, "Sorry Izzy baby, Auntie Cedes won't bring up any pageants again."

"Baby, what did I tell you about shoes?" Kurt said, inspecting his daughter tattered shoes. They were pink and red ballet flats with white lace, or at least they were. Now they were more like a dirty, bloody hue with tiny rips on the side. The once pristine laces were thinning so much that they could break off at any second. Izzy put up a shy, guilty grin and shrugged, scuffing the worn shoe gently on the floor.

"Sweetie, you go through shoes faster than I do. These were perfect two weeks ago and now they look like a pack of teething puppies got hold of them. We'll have to get you new ones after the fair. These look like they're about to fall apart any time and I'm not about to have my baby looking like a hobo."

Kurt lifted Izzy's face and kissed her forehead, just to assure her that he wasn't mad at her.

"Why don't you play a little bit while Daddy gets himself together?" Kurt cupped her face gently, feeling the warmth of her smile. Izzy skipped off into the music room where she quickly uncovered the piano and began to play a medley of Broadway's best.

"May I ask you something? And I mean no offense." Mercedes said carefully.

"Go for it," Kurt replied. He knew he'd be interrogated sooner or later, might as well start now.

"How do you cope?"

"With what?"

"Raising a kid who can't speak. You love singing. I just thought that if you ever had any kids, well...that they would love singing as much as you do. I can't imagine how hard it is for you. I just wanted to know how you've been dealing."

"It's not that she can't speak. It's more like she won't." Kurt answered.

"What do you mean?" Mercedes motioned for him to take a seat beside her. He sat down with his hands folded, looking like he was about to give a lecture for the hundredth time.

"We didn't think there was anything wrong at first. She cried, screamed, and giggled like any other baby. She mumbled and spoke gibber for a bit and we thought nothing of it. That is, until we enrolled her at this privileged preschool Blaine's parents recommended or rather demanded we send her to, " Kurt rolled his eyes, "The teachers told us she was very fussy, very active, and she played with the other kids just fine but she never spoke to them. And sometimes when the teachers would call her, she wouldn't respond. Finely, we took her to see doctor, then after that a specialist. She wasn't deaf, that they know for sure. What they can't figure out is why she won't talk. They checked everything and there's nothing wrong with her. Her vocal chords are there and there's nothing going on in her brain that would keep her from talking. And she _can_ talk. I've heard her." Kurt whispered the last part.

Mercedes could feel his frustration growing heavier in each word. One look, and Mercedes knew that Kurt was struggling with his daughter's silence more than he'd like to admit.

"But no one else has ever heard her except me. And when she does talk it's only a word or two at a time, and those times are few and far between. She spoke one sentence once...and it wasn't exactly the most reassuring thing to hear."

"What did she say?" Mercedes asked.

"I'd rather not repeat it, hearing it aloud again will just give me another reason to ha-to be upset with Blaine."

Mercedes decided not to push the issue further. She didn't want to have him sink back into the muck he so desperately needed to crawl out of.

"Ummm...so...she talks, that means there's still hope she might speak up to other people someday right?"

"We hope so," Kurt said, grateful for the change in subject, "The doctor said that she's displaying selective mutism. They told me that she might talk to more people if she's able to form a trusting relationship with them. You know, find people who she can be comfortable with. But it's so difficult finding friends for her. None of the other kids seem to understand her. And she can be so competitive and tempermental I...I just don't know how to help her."

Mercedes took his hand and pulled him from the chair.

"I think I have a solution to your problem. And conveniently...it's at the fair."

Kurt doubted it. He had tried to get Izzy to join more group activities, to make new friends and discover her talents. But all the kids either feared or hated her, and those that didn't were the ones who would bully her.

"I don't know Cedes. I'd sell everything in my closet to find a kid who can keep up with Izzy's...Izziness." Kurt shrugged. He crossed his legs and brought his hands to his knees, his head titled to the side. Mercedes smiled at the familiar mannerisms. She'd miss those little things that made Kurt...well, Kurt. It was a small step, but she was determined to keep going til she got every feisty inch of him back.

"Trust me," Mercedes winked at him, her plans quickly bubbling in her head, "I think she'll love my plan."

* * *

"Remind me to kill myself when we get back to your place. That's if my feet don't do it first." Kurt plopped down on the bench from exhaustion. He wanted to rip the shoes from the feet and throw them into the closest slushie machine he could find. Or maybe at the next person who mentioned what a lovely mother-daughter pair he and Izzy made. He adjusted his dark blue shades, still paranoid that someone from his past would recognize him. Oh god, he didn't know what he would do if that happened.

_Hey, how are you? I'm fine. I just came back with my adopted daughter because the man I thought I loved turned out to be a complete failure. But I'll make it big anyways, even though I have no more friends, my family hates me, and I'm more broke than a rat. But other than that life's simply fabulous._

"Why did I agree to this again?" Kurt asked, kicking a carton of spilled popcorn away from his dusty shoes.

"Because you're a slave to Izzy's smile?" Mercedes passed him a plastic tub, "Tots?"

"No thanks," Kurt's nose twitched from the smell, "I'm not fond of eating my potatoes while they're swimming in oil."

Mercedes was too happy munching down to notice his jab.

"Oh god. So delicious! You sure Kurt? Cause I'm about to just chug these down."

"Go ahead, I'm good," Kurt said, staring at the deep fried ice cream he was holding on a stick. He flung it in the trash behind them while Mercedes wasn't looking, wishing he could do the same to the one Izzy was currently smashing into her face.

Izzy was standing in line for the flying carousel. She had a stick of deep fried ice cream on one hand and a slushie on the other. And she was trying to finish them both at the same time. Kurt insisted on her eating them neatly before going on the rides but Izzy was far too impatient to listen. So while her Daddy and Auntie Cedes were resting their tired feet, Izzy vigilantly kept her place in a line that never seemed to move.

"Are you always this much of a pushover with her?" Mercedes said, frowning when she'd reach the bottom of the tub.

"Only when I feel guilty," Kurt answered, "Things haven't been easy for her either."

"Well, she sure seemed to enjoy herself today." Mercedes said,"It's like she's not used to being this..."

"Happy?" Kurt finished for her.

"Hey white boy, you said that, not me," Mercedes drew closer to her friend, "Quit being so hard on yourself. Just enjoy. Be happy for Izzy."

And he was. Although he was against the idea at first, Kurt had to admit that he'd never seen Izzy so free before. It was love at first sight the instant they arrived at the fair. Izzy took off like a bullet, leaving her Dad and Aunt to choke on the dust clouds far behind her. She hit each booth and vendor like a chronic robber, trying nearly everything she could get her hands on. And Kurt indulged her whims. It was stupid to throw away money left and right, but he felt like he owed her this. Her delight was practically shaking her senseless, and Kurt felt like it was up to him to keep her happy for as long as he possibly could. And if that meant dishing out the cash, then so be it. He'll find a way to make up for it later.

"Look. That's this year's New Directions, fresh from their competition at Nationals." Mercedes said, tugging Kurt's arm. She pointed towards the small stage a few booths away from them. The group preformed a chaotic medley of 90's hits with all the energy of a peanut.

"Decent but unconvincing. Their performance is ninety-percent hairography. And sloppy hairography at that." Kurt said casually, tilting his nose up, "We'd wipe the floor with them."

"You know it," Mercedes high-fived her best friend, "Just don't let Mike hear that."

"Mike Chang?"

"Yeah, listen up." Mercedes said. And right on cue, a tall, familiar figure walked on to the stage. His hair was longer and choppier than before, and his square glasses hid the blood-shot eyes from countless nights of work, but his smile had more energy than everyone on that stage combined. He marched through the stage in a white lab coat, waving enthusiastically to the crowd.

"Thank you all for coming out to support the McKinley High New Directions!" He pushed up his eyeglasses, "I'm inviting all the parents out there to sign their kids up for our music appreciation camp, now open to everyone. For more information, please see one of our counselors at the music booth right beside the stage. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your day!"

Mike hurried off the stage and disappeared in the crowd. The kids on stage began another number, this time stomping to the rhythm of the latest top 10 hits.

"Was that really Mike Chang?" Kurt took his sunglasses off, his face twisted in confusion, "Our Mike Chang? The guy who claps at every performance no matter how terrible or offensive it is?"

"Yup, better known as Dr. Michael Chang now. And he's the proud sponsor of New Directions. Wish we had one of those back in the day. He like, basically funds most of their trips. And now that summer's here, he's busy opening up a music appreciation camp. I'll be teaching there." Mercedes said, "And you should too. We can talk to Mike after Izzy's done with the ride."

"Oh no. It's been years since I had anything to do with music." Kurt said, putting his sunglasses back on.

"Then it's the perfect time to get back into it," Mercedes really hoped that Kurt didn't mean what he said. What the hell was he doing all that time in New York? Knitting?, "Listen, Mike's been looking for people to help out. And he's a very generous boss. Besides, you said that Izzy needs to learn to be comfortable around people. What better way to get her out of her shell than this? She'll be around the same kids every day for two weeks, working as a team. And I've heard her play piano this morning, she could really show off that talent if you'd let her. And Mike strictly enforces a no bullying policy so she'll be fine. "

"As wonderful as it sounds Cedes, I'm not even sure we're staying that long," Kurt said, "We might head back to New York soon."

"Okay...so how many years do I have to wait before I see you again?"

"Cedes please. Not now..."

"For the last time, I'm not telling you nothing for no damn paper. Now it let me do my god-damn job!" A deep, irritated voice boomed past them. The voice belonged to a tall, rather bulky police officer running away from a scrawny figure wielding a camera.

"Oh god,"Kurt hid his face behind Mercedes' shoulder, "Please, please tell me that's not who I think it is."

The scrawny camera man spun around at the sound of Kurt's voice. His pursuit of the police forgotten, Jacob Ben Israel trudged over to his new target.

"Well, well, if it isn't McKinley's favorite alumnus. Don't try to hide, I'd know that voice anywhere Kurt Hummel. Or do you go by Anderson now? I heard you've taken the wife role really well, but you can't really rely on every source you hear you know."

"Oh really? Cause according to my sources, you were arrested for locking yourself in Rachel Berry's dressing room the night prior to her Broadway debut. And those are the same sources that busted you with stalking charges." With a sassy wave of her hand, Mercedes shooed the would-be reporter away, "Now go and interview your sex life about how deprived it's been. I'm sure it'll be simply fascinating."

"Hey, hey, what's with all the hostility? I'm only doing my duties as chief editor of the McKinley High alumni magazine."

"Your magazine is a rag. Last issue you said that I was involved in a child trafficking syndicate. You know how many damn calls I got demanding that I sue you?"

"Numerous I'm sure. But you bore me now," Ben Israel flipped the camera to record and focused the lens on Kurt's annoyed scowl, "So Mr. Hummel or Anderson or whatever makes your proud little gay heart flutter, speaking of my prestigious position as chief editor for our alumni newspaper, word on the street is you're an editor yourself. But that's no surprise you did. After all, you strolled out this town practically screaming at the top of your lungs that we'll all tremble in fear at the sound of your glorious name one day. I even have it saved on tape."

"This is absurd," Kurt stood up, his hands clenching the strap of his shoulder bag so tightly his slender fingers looked like mere bones, "You're not getting anything from me."

"I just want one confirmation from you. Is it true that the reason you rose through the ranks so quickly was not because of sheer talent or skill, but because you were the resident boy toy and favorite bed warmer of the publishing firm's owner?"

"Oh hell no," Mercedes shot straight up and got so close to Ben Israel's face his dirty glasses fogged up, "You did not just insult my boy in front of me. Don't push me cause I've had it up to here with you. Two issues ago you wrote an article claiming Mike was dealing drugs to his patients on the side. And the one before that, you put Artie in the obituary! "

"Cedes, he's not worth it," Kurt tugged her back, "Don't waste your breath on him."

"Just one more question Hummel-"

"I'm not hearing this. You can stick that camera up your ass." Kurt locked arms with Mercedes and briskly walked away.

"I will, after you tell me why you came back to, as I so bluntly remember you stating it, 'Loserville'. Why'd you leave the city high life to crash back in cow town central? Hubby not man enough for you?" Ben Israel smirked and juggled the camera around, trying to get a good angle of Kurt's burning face, "Come on Hummel, give me something to work with. The people need to know the truth."

"The truth that you're an annoying asshole? Oh, I think they already do," Kurt shoved the camera away from his face so hard it smacked Ben Israel in the nose.

The reporter muttered furious curses. He sulked away, a sweaty hand covering his bruised nose, "Hey welcome back to Lima, loser!"

Kurt kept his head up, but the insults had done their job. Kurt laughed bitterly. Lima Loser. After all he did to get out of this damn town, he'd come crawling back like a wounded puppy.

"I don't want him or his camera anywhere near Izzy," Kurt walked over to where his daughter waited in line. Or at least where he last saw her.

"Wasn't she right here like five minutes ago?"

Kurt pulled off his sunglasses, hoping desperately that he wasn't seeing what he saw. A hair clip in the shape of a rose. He stooped down to pick his daughter's abandoned clip from the dirt, "Oh god."

"She's got to be around here somewhere," Mercedes said quickly, "We'll just ask around."

Before Mercedes could even finish, Kurt was already interrogating the first kid he saw.

"Did you see a little girl about this tall? She's got blonde hair, green eyes, and she has a red dress, and she was wearing this hair clip."

"Umm...yeah, she was in line behind me, but she left," The boy answered, "She was running really fast. I don't know where she went though. I think someone was chasing her or something."

"What? Who? Are you sure you didn't see where she went?"

"Kurt, calm down." Mercedes pulled him to the side, "You're scaring the kids."

"I'm sorry Mercedes, but my daughter is missing, she won't talk, and she doesn't know anybody in this town and frankly I'm really, really freaking out right now." Kurt gripped his forehead, frustrated to the brink of panic, "It was only for a few minutes. She was right there. How the hell did I not notice she wasn't there?"

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" A tall police officer walked towards them. His serious face lifted when he recognized Kurt, "Wait, Fancy? That you?"

"Azimio!We need your help. We're looking for a kid. She's gone missing." Mercedes pulled the clip out of Kurt's grip, "She's got one of these on her hair. She's about seven years old, long blonde hair, small, and she's wearing a red dress. Now can you please tell your security to get her back here before her Dad passes out?"

"Wait. Hold up Mama Cedes," Azimio pointed at Kurt, " First of all, Fancy's really back. And second of all, a kid's missing?"

"Yes. My kid." Kurt informed him, his tone a bit too snippy for comfort, "So if you're done chatting, can we please find her?"

"Easy there Fancy, we'll get her back. Security's good around here. I should know, I'm the head. Now what'd you say her name was?"

"We didn't. And her name is Izzy," Kurt said. He whipped his hair around and whispered to Mercedes, "He's a cop?"

"Obviously Kurt,"

"And he called you Mama Cedes?"

"One of my kids gave me that nickname. It kind of caught on. Come on Kurt, don't look like that. He's not like he was before. We're actually friends now. And he's one of the best cops in Lima."

"That's reassuring," Kurt mumbled, "I feel so much better now."

Mercedes' eyes rolled at the sarcasm. Why did Kurt have to be so difficult? Was his head just stuck in stone, unwilling to accept the fact that people change? If Kurt wasn't set on being such a bitch, he might have noticed that Azimio was genuinely glad to see him. Amused even.

"We're wasting time." Kurt walked off, completely ignoring Mercedes' attempts at calming him down. "They're never going to find her without me."

"Where are you going?" Azimio asked.

"Where else? To look for her. I'm not waiting around for you to do your job." Kurt snapped. He didn't even wait for Mercedes to come trotting after him.

He just sped off into the crowd, searching helplessly for his daughter. Why in the world did he take his eyes off her? And what was she doing right now? Even if someone did find her, she wouldn't talk to them. Slow, agonizing minutes passed by without any sight of her. No matter who Kurt asked, no one seemed to know what became of his little girl. Were these people all blind? How can you not notice a child wandering by herself? Kurt nearly screamed from all the crazy possibilities running through his panic-stricken mind.

Kurt took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Izzy, what have you gotten yourself into?"

* * *

Unbeknownst to her Daddy, a few minutes ago Izzy had crossed paths with a terrified fugitive.

She was peacefully munching down the last of her ice cream, watching her father and Aunt Cedes talk about boring grown up stuff, when a lanky kid whizzed by. He pushed through the crowd so fast he knocked down a string of kids waiting in line for the flying carousel. He whipped around, his long arms thoughtlessly shoving Izzy's ice cream into her face. It took a hot second for the scene to finally sink in. Izzy wiped the mess off her face, the remaining ice cream quickly melting from her fury.

Like a cannon ball she shot after the kid. One hand tightened into a fist, the other one clenching her beloved slushie. The kid was fast. Very fast. But Izzy had been wronged, and by all the will within her, she would let him have a piece of her mind. She dashed after him, dodging and shoving whatever unfortunate soul got in her way. Her target slowed down, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Izzy ran straight into him and pushed him.

"What? Hey!Get off me!" The kid tried to push her away, but she locked her slushie-free hand onto his green jacket like a hawk gripping it's prey.

"Mickey Mousey Wousey. Where are you?" A loud, screechy voice called out through the crowd.

"Let me go. Now," The kid demanded, trying to pry Izzy's fingers from his jacket. She shook her head stubbornly, her eyes narrowing.

"Mickey! Mickey we haven't gone to the moon bounce yet!"

The boy spun frantically as the high pitched whining came closer.

"Fine," He said, "Don't say I didn't warn you." Then to Izzy's surprise, he grabbed her by the arms, lifted her up, and pushed her behind one of the booths. He crouched beside her, motioning her to keep quiet. She had half the mind to kick him when the high voice shouted again.

"Mickey, I know you can hear me. Get back right now or I'll tell your Dad! And mine! And Grandpa! And everyone! Mickey!"

Izzy peaked out from behind their hiding place. There was a girl standing in the middle of the road, her arms crossed. Her brown eyes blazed with impatience. She tapped her squeaky clean shoes on the pavement, as if counting how long it would take for someone to notice her. Her dark brown hair was pulled up in two huge pigtails. A golden star was painted on her right cheek, and she seemed rather proud of it, lifting that part of her face higher. Izzy laughed. The girl looked more like a cartoon than a kid.

"Just don't let her see me please,"

Izzy crawled back behind the booth. The boy was huddled in the corner, wiping his glasses clean. He was tall for his age, skinny, and terrified of being seen. He pulled his green hood over his head.

"Sorry. I'm Mickey," He said softly, "And the loud one over there is Mia."

Izzy still hadn't forgiven him for spilling her ice cream, but she wasn't about to hit a helpless kid. She tugged his sleeve, and pointed at the ice cream stain on her dress. He smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry about that too." He said. She pulled his hood off, curiosity getting the better of her. She giggled when she saw a gigantic heart painted on his cheek, complete with glitter. Hay and grass stuck out from his thick black hair. And Izzy was pretty sure there were bits of cotton candy holding the mess together.

"I lost a bet okay!" He explained quickly. He rubbed his face roughly, so embarrassed that red filled the tip of his ears. Izzy pulled out some of the wipes her Daddy always made sure were in her pockets. She handed one to Mickey. After a few seconds of watching him stare at the towelette, Izzy rolled her eyes and wiped the stupid heart painting away. Satisfied with her work, she handed him the dirty towelette and sat down beside him.

"Thanks," He said. She shrugged and drew circles in the dirt. She pulled her tangled, messy hair away from her face. She rolled up her sleeves and kept playing quietly on the ground, taking huge gulps of her now warm slushie in between her drawings.

"What's your name?" Mickey asked. She scribbled her name on the ground.

"Izzy?" He read, "What kind of name is that?"

Her eyes narrowed and she pointed back to the ice cream stain on her dress.

"Oh yeah...I guess I kinda owe you one." He summed up his courage to peak out from behind the booth. There was no sight of his stalker. He grabbed Izzy's hand and lifted her up.

"Um...this is weird. I've never seen you here before. And I've seen everyone in Dad's office. Are you new here?" Mickey asked.

She nodded and hugged her slushie cup.

"Ok...that explains it I guess. I'm seven. But I'll be eight really soon." Mickey said.

Izzy smiled and pointed to herself proudly.

"Uh...do you ever talk?" Mickey asked.

The quiet girl shook her head, expecting him to leave or make fun of her. Instead he broke out into a wide grin.

"That. Is. So. Awesome! Not that I don't want to hear your talk." He laughed nervously as Izzy eyed him down, "But I've been hearing Mia talk all day and you know...your like, different. It's cool. My Dad says it's good to be different. It's means your not boring."

Izzy looked around, trying to see if her own Dad could be found. Her smile dropped when she realized he was no where to be seen. She looked down on her slushie cup, as if it could magically tell her where to find him.

"Oh, you're lost aren't you?" Mickey said, "But it's ok. We can ask Uncle Finn for help." The boy thought about it for a second. He was very smart for his age, and it didn't take long for him to see the flaw in his plan.

"Actually, maybe we should ask Mr. Burt to help us. He's really nice. And Dad says Uncle Finn gets easily lost sometimes." Mickey pointed to a booth a few blocks away, "They should be over there. Mr. Burt's always talking to my Dad. But we have to be careful or else Mia might see me again and I'll never get away. Or maybe I can just ask Mr. Burt to tell Mia to stop bossing me around..."

"Ah ha!"

Mickey jumped behind Izzy like a terrified puppy. A furious girl leapt in front of them, her pig tails standing on end. Her pink lips looked ready to burst with all the words her little body could scream out.

"Where have you been? You lost the bet. You were supposed to get me a bear. I want a bear! And I'm so tired chasing you all over. It's not a fun game." Mia's eyes darted back and forth from Mickey and Izzy, "What is _she _doing here?"

"What do you want?" Mickey asked, annoyed. He was tired of her constant clinging. Maybe if he just did whatever else she wanted, she'll be content enough to stop pestering him.

"I want you to carry me back to the booth. Right now. I'm tired. And it's your fault! I had to chase you all this time, so now you have to carry me." She said this all in confidence, like he really was responsible for her aching feet.

"You have feet and those shoes you always show off." Mickey said, "Use them."

"But they'll get dirty, " Mia said. Her brown eyes rippled with a temper just waiting to explode."Besides these are my Mom's birthday gift to me. She said no one else in town has a pair. They're brand name. I don't know which one, but I know they're one of a kind."

Mia showed off her shoes. They were cream and yellow with delicate white lace designs. And Izzy had five pairs of the same shoes at home. Not one of them lasted past a month.

Izzy turned up her nose with a scoff, unimpressed. Mia took note of this and, being the overly sensitive child she was, demanded to know who dared to make fun of her.

"Who are you laughing at?" Mia demanded, her lips tight like a bow ready to shot.

"Her name is Izzy," Mickey said, " I'm going to help her find her Dad."

"But I want you to carry me to the booth! I'm tired." Mia whined.

"Walk yourself!"

Mia yanked her pig tails down, stomped the ground, and screamed. She wasn't used to being rejected this bluntly, having been spoiled senseless since day one. She grew up convicted that anyone who didn't immediately worship her was out to bring her down. And the fact that her best friend was siding with her 'oppressor' sent her blood to the boiling point.

"Izzy's such an ugly name," Mia said, "Just like her face."

The quiet girl gave no verbal retort. Her action sent the message quite plainly. She lifted up her slushie cup, still half heavy with sticky grape goo. Mia gasped and flung her arms over to cover her head.

Izzy smirked. She tilted the cup forward, smiling as the purple drink splattered all over Mia's precious shoes. The fabric quickly drank up the messy slurp, smearing the beautiful golds with muddy strains.

"You little brat!" The humiliated ball of fury stomped her feet, foolishly soaking herself more, "I'll get you back. You'll see. I'll-"

That's when Izzy got a clear shot, and Mia got a face full of slushie.

A horrified Mickey looked on, his mouth wide with shock. Mia was shaking, from anger or humiliation, no one could tell. It was perfectly clear however, that Izzy had done what no one else could. She'd shut up the great Mia Berry Hudson.

The triumphant girl bounced contently, sighing like her father. She tossed the cup at Mia with a smile. She turned around to go on her merry way, enjoying the warm satisfying feeling she got whenever she stood up for herself. She was three steps away when Mia shrieked like a banshee and lunged.

Izzy spun right when Mia caught hold of her hair. Grape slush and dirt flew as the girls pulled, scratched, and shoved each other, Izzy easily gaining the upper hand. Mia poured all her rage and strength into each jab, and Izzy easily took the hits. While Mia spat and kicked aimlessly, quiet Izzy was too busy laughing to do any real damage. With a simple trick, she tripped Mia and ran as fast as she could, waving bye to Mickey.

Izzy zipped past the crowd like a mouse, bouncing and gliding through with ease. Mickey decided right then that if they'd meet again, he'd pick her for his football team.

"Get back here!" Mia darted after Izzy. The two children raced through the fair grounds. One of them having the time of her life, and the other enraged beyond belief. Izzy dodged the passerbys, smiling widely at their odd looks. Mia trudged behind her until she finally disappeared altogether. Izzy jumped, pumping her fist victoriously into the air.

Laughing contently she kept running, thinking about how mortified her Daddy would be when he saw her.

She was so high off her victory that she didn't notice that she had run straight out of the fairgrounds and onto the main roads.

Angry honks blared all around her. Startled, Izzy lost her footing. Her shoelaces snapped. She tripped flat on her knees, her hands scraping painfully against the pavement. She lifted herself up in time to see a dark, speeding wall of metal swerving her way.

Her blood drained to her toes. She froze in place. The roar of burning tires filled her ears. There was a barge of shouts. Her bright green eyes clamped shut as the car rushed towards her. She screamed. She held her ground.

Suddenly, somewhere above her, strong arms snatched her away from the incoming disaster. She kept screaming, digging her tiny fingers onto the arms that carried her.

Her eyes burned when she opened them. Tears spilled on to her dress. She wiped her face frantically, hoping that no one would see how much she'd cried. No one but her Daddy could see her cry. She buried her face onto the shoulder of the stranger who pulled her off the road, not daring to let go.

"Hey!" The man carrying her shouted. He had a booming voice, but Izzy found she wasn't scared of it. He threw the closest thing he could find, a heavy rock, and flung it at the car. The car screeched to a stop. An irritated driver swung his legs out the car, throwing his arms up in confusion.

"What gives man? Throw a rock at my car? I'll sue your ass!" The disgruntled driver immediately regretted his words. He sunk back in his car and pulled the door shut when he recognized the guy he just challenged.

"I'm sure the court would love to hear that after I tell them how you nearly ran over a kid."

Izzy lifted her eyes to get a good look at the man who saved her life. He had a tough face set like stone, a strong jaw, and from what Izzy could tell, dark, narrow eyes. He was definitely tall, and his arms were huge and muscular, like a wall of concrete surrounding her. He felt rough and rugged, definitely stronger than her Daddy. But within all the rough and ruggedness, a strange, unexpected gentleness remained.

Izzy gasped when her rescuer banged his heavy fists against the hood of the car.

"Look Karofsky," The driver pleaded through his closed window, "I just got bailed out. Can't you give a guy a break? For old times sake?"

"Tell that to Azimio when he gets here. Now get out of the car Strando." His old Titan team mate reluctantly got out of the car. The smell of smoke and beer puffed out when the door closed.

"Hey man, I didn't make her run into the road. Ain't my fault you can't control your own damn kid."Strando argued. Karofsky wanted to shove him right then. Thankfully, the little girl in his arms kept him under control.

"She's not my kid."

"Then why are you so freaking upset?" The ex-Titan scratched the remaining patch of his blonde hair. The guy looked like he hadn't bathed in days.

Disgusted, Izzy hid her nose against her rescuer's shoulder. Her head perked up in surprise when she recognized the scent. It was muted out by sweat and sun, but she could still recognize the familiar fragrance. Her Daddy kept a bottle of the same cologne. Sometimes when he was away, she would take the bottle and spray it everywhere, just so the entire condo could smell like him. Then she wouldn't be lonely anymore. The simple scent put her worries at ease, and she placed her head back down on the strong shoulders.

"Your an idiot who needs to get his life back together." Dave said, "Damn it Strando grow up."

Izzy gasped and covered her ears.

"Sorry," Dave said. He tried putting her down but she just jumped back up. She flung her arms around his neck, staring at him with wide curious eyes.

She tossed her hair back, sweeping her bangs to the side. The simple gesture coaxed a smile out of Dave. She titled her head, her green eyes gazing up at him. She beamed and hugged him tightly, silently thanking him.

"You're a strange little kid," Dave said. The girl shrugged and nodded, as if she took his words as a compliment. Dave couldn't remember it clearly, but he saw that smile before. She sheepishly wiped her face with a dirty sleeve, sobbing a bit. She almost forgot that a minute ago, she'd been crying.

"Where are your parents?" Dave asked, suddenly annoyed that they weren't there to help her. What kind of parents would just let their daughter stroll into the road? She was quiet, tough, and strange. Not many children could smile and laugh minutes after nearly being hit.

"Alright now," Dave said, placing her down on her feet. She protested but he remained firm, "I think we have to find your parents."

The girl stopped fussing and stood quietly, looking up at him for guidance. Dave had to remind himself not to get so attached so fast. He didn't have kids of his own, but if he ever had one that turned out like this one, he'd never leave her out of his sight. He was about to give in and pick her up again when a familiar voice called out.

"Strando?" Azimio threw his hands up in defeat, "Come on man. This is like the third time I arrested you. You going for a record or something?"

"Izzy!"

The child twirled around. Dave watched as a slender figure ran towards them. He was lithe, fair, and dressed for the runway. He knelt down before Izzy, quickly inspecting her from head to toe. Long, slender fingers traced the child's face, wiping away the tear stains that refused to dry.

"Izzy baby, don't ever, ever do that again!"

Dave's heart fell through the floor. He knew that voice. He'd listen to it every night when going through his music. But no way. It just couldn't be. Not him. Not when his life was finally at peace.

"You had me so worried. Don't ever do that again baby." Kurt brushed his fingers over his daughter's cheeks, "You look like a train wreck. Why are you crying? Are you ok?"

"Of course she's not okay, she almost got hit by a car," Dave snapped, "Typical of you to talk about how she looks before asking if she's okay. Nice one there Hummel."

"Who the hell do you think-" Kurt's words were sliced mid-way.

Dave Karofsky. _The_ Dave Karofsky, the very one who'd made his life a living hell. The same one who chased him out of school, then out of town was now just half a step away from his face.

There was heat between them, a seething intensity built by years of pain and regret.

"Got something to say Fancy?"

Kurt's heart pounded so loud he feared Dave could hear it.

"What were you doing with my daughter?" Kurt demanded, his teeth clenching.

"I just saved her life. And no thanks to you." Dave took the dreaded step forward. Kurt leaned back, holding his breath. Dave loomed over him like a wall of muscle. Strong, massive, muscle. Kurt pushed him away quickly. The touch burned.

"Just get away from me and Izzy or I'll-"

"Go home crying to your prince charming to make it all better? Run away?" Dave mocked him, "Cause it worked so well every other times you did it, right?"

Kurt looked at him with those eyes that could stop a bullet. And just like before, Dave felt the familiar weight of his hate.

"You are nothing more than a horrible memory," Kurt said. He pulled Izzy away from Dave, giving her up to Mercedes. "And I'm not letting you haunt me anymore."

"That's exactly what you said the night before you left," Dave said, "And probably every night since then. Hope your choice was worth it because I've had to deal with it ever since you left."

Mercedes' face dropped. She distracted Izzy with her cell phone, hoping that the child didn't hear what she just did.

"You have no right to talk like I did anything wrong." Kurt whispered, "And if I did hurt you, it's nothing compared to the things you did to me."

"I apologized for what I did. Many times. Every chance I got. You know that," Dave said. He touched Kurt's arm. "And you still treated me like dirt."

"Only because you deserved it,"

And with that, Kurt walked away. He picked up Izzy, resisting the urge to turn back. He couldn't look at Dave again. Not with all the secrets and pain that threatened to burst out at any minute. Mercedes lead the way, a supportive hand on her best friends shoulder.

None of them noticed that one of Izzy's battered shoes slipped from her foot.

She peaked up from her Daddy's shoulder, her veil of blond hair floating in the raising wind. She watched as the man who saved her drifted further and further away. She couldn't understand why her Daddy was so mad at him. He was nice. He helped her. Her lips quivered, thinking she might never see him again. She swept her bangs to the side and waved him goodbye, a sad smile on her chubby face.

Dave carefully picked up the little shoe. All the things Kurt said sank into his skull like a knife. He spent so many nights thinking of that dreaded moment when he and Kurt would met again.

He never expected it to be like this.

"Hey man, I ain't gonna lie," Azimio said after handing Strando off to another officer, "That was really awkward to watch. As in, really, really, weird. You okay?"

"Whenever fancy face is around? Never."

A perfect person, Azimio was not. There were plenty of things he wished he could take back, things he was honestly ashamed of. But if there was one thing he could boast about, it was his loyalty as a friend. It was a trait he didn't even realized he had until it was put to the test. And after years of being a friend to Dave, he wasn't about to stop. And with Fancy back in town, God knows he'll be working overtime in the supportive friend department.

"Damn man, you still got it bad huh?" Azimio joked. He squinted his eyes, "Oh great. Look who came late to the party."

"What are you talking about?"

"The good doctor Mike Chang along with your future brother in law,"

Fin Hudson staggered on to the scene, his ears still ringing from Mia's latest rants. Mike ran with a bit more grace, his handy medicine kit every ready at his side.

"We heard there was a hit and run. Is everyone alright?" Mike asked, mentally assessing everyone in sight.

"We're ok Dr.C, but do you have anything for my friend here?" Azimio pushed Dave forward, "I think he needs something for his broken heart,"

"Shut up," Dave snapped, "I gotta get out of here." He left, leaving a very confused Fin and Mike to wonder what just happened.

"Fancy went that way," Azimio called out, pointing to where the cars were parked, "With Mercedes. She's got the Volvo! Just trying to help you out man!"

"Okay..." Fin sported his signature confused, lost look, "Mia and Mickey came to the booth rambling out some girl they met. Mia wants to kill her and Mickey wants to play football with her. And now there's a hit and run but no one's hit..and Dave's upset about someone named Fancy...and I'm confusing myself aren't I?"

"Fancy?" Mike took off his glasses. That nickname was reserved for one person alone. "You mean...?"

"Ummhmm. The one and only."

"Can I please get into this conversation?" Fin demanded, his head still throbbing from his headache, "What the hell is happening?"

"Ain't it obvious?" Azimio said, nodding to where Dave was pushing his way through the crowd. "Your bro's back. You all just missed him."

"Wait, what?"

"Kurt's really back?" Mike smiled, "That's great! I thought the text Mercedes sent was just another one of her drills. She really needs to clarify these things..."

"And dear old fancy didn't come alone." Azimio added, "He's got a kid."

The three men stared at each other. Surprisingly, it was Fin who brought up the next logical course of action.

"I gotta tell Burt."

* * *

"That's beautiful Izzy. I'll be back soon. I just gotta check on your Daddy." Mercedes placed a fresh box of colored pencils on the table. The child looked at her hopefully, grabbed a handful of pencils and continued to scribble half-heartedly. Mercedes sighed and closed the door behind her as she headed for the music room.

The day went out like a snuffed out candle. After their rush home from the fiasco at the fair, Kurt had gone from difficult to just plain impossible. Once he was absolutely convinced that Izzy was alright, Kurt spent the rest of the day secluded in the music library. It was a small room filled with memorabilia from music tours and trips Mercedes set up over the years while Kurt was away.

When Mercedes entered, Kurt was laying down at the recliner, his head turned towards the windows. It was raining softly outside, the tiny drops merging into silver streaks down the pane.

"Ain't nothing much to see out there. It's ten o'clock. You might want to get some sleep." Mercedes said. She pulled up a chair next to him. Her friend glanced at her, then at the walls lined with pictures and trophies. She expected him to be vulnerable, fragile. But what she saw in his eyes was anger.

"I can't sleep." He whispered, trying to keep his voice under control, "I can't stop thinking."

"About what happened earlier?" Mercedes said, "Well neither can I. Kurt, I've tried to be patient with you. But you have to tell me what's going on right now. You're upset..."

"Exactly. And I don't really want to talk about it," Kurt cut her off. His voice was sharp, shaking near the end of his words. His face was sickly, his eyes brimming with the tears he refused to shed.

"Okay white boy. Here's some tough love." Mercedes rolled up her sleeves. She spoke gently, but with a firmness that made each word sink. "I don't know what's gotten into you all this time, but I'm sure as hell gonna beat it out. How can I help you if your being so difficult and secretive the entire damn time?"

"Well excuse me for being touchy. I just learned that my best friend is now all chummy with the same bullies who tossed me in the dumpster." Kurt felt the familiar pain returning, "You could have at least been honest with me and told me straight up that you're all happy in your little Lima paradise."

"Just like you're being honest with me?" Mercedes answered back, "I heard what you said to Dave. And you know what I think?"

"It doesn't matter what you think, because you're wrong," Kurt said, a nervous hand rushing to his lips. He refused to look at her.

"It makes me wonder Kurt. Really, really wonder how honest you really were. You want honesty? Well here it is. And you better get your story straight cause what went down between you and Dave earlier didn't look like no bully and victim scene."

"This is insane Mercedes." Kurt jumped up and nearly knocked her over. She grabbed his hands, pulled him back down, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"It looked like a lovers quarrel." Mercedes said, "And you know what else? It sounded like you did most of the hurting,"

Kurt pushed her hands away. He pulled back, his face as cold and still as lifeless porcelain.

"You know nothing of what happened. And I want it to stay that way, at least for now." Kurt said, forcing the words out,"It hurts me too much to think about it. I need some space and time to sort things out. Please."

Kurt was grateful when Mercedes got up from her chair. She stood up reluctantly, her patience tested to the core.

"I may not know what Dave did to deserve your undying hate," Mercedes said, her arms folded stubbornly across her chest, "But I do know that I don't deserve this. Goodnight Kurt."

When she closed the door he was left in darkness. He turned back to the window, the only part of that whole damn room that didn't make him realize how separated he was from her. The photos and memories on the wall all told him that while he was away, she had gone on and not only forgiven their former enemies, but even became close friends with them. He couldn't help but feel that in spite of her acceptance and love, there was still a rift between them. And he knew it was his fault.

"I want to tell you Cedes, I do," Kurt whispered, "But how can I tell you what's wrong when even I can't figure it out?"

And the fact that it was so difficult to figure out was the worst part. It shouldn't be difficult at all. The smart, logical, sane thing to do would be to head back to New York on the first flight out. That's where he'd built a family and life for himself. That's where Blaine was. And he loved Blaine. He loved Blaine. He loved Blaine. He loved Blaine... And that was more than enough right? Then why couldn't he bring himself to pack his bags and run back to prince charming?

Kurt cursed furiously, hitting the window over and over.

He wanted to smash his head against the wall, against anything that would knock that god-damn Karofsky from his mind. Whenever he thought of running back to Blaine, the idea would be corrupted by that damned neanderthal. Kurt told himself it was out of guilt, but he knew it was something much deeper.

"You are nothing. Just a bad memory, a mistake. Just a nightmare." Kurt whispered the words he couldn't say aloud to Dave, "Because you can't be anything more than that."

His heart raced when Mercedes confronted him about what she'd heard. He should have been more careful. He should have kept cool, calm, and collected. But whenever he was near Dave fucking Karofsky his emotions flared own their own accord, like water reacting to burning oil.

He closed his cold hands together, instantly recalling the heat he felt when he pushed Dave away. For some reason, there was always heat when they were close to each other. He hoped the years had dulled the sensation, but it was still there, as alive and unnerving as before.

Kurt's mind flew back to another time. It was so long ago, yet he could still remember the wind singing above them as the rain washed through all the shouts, curses, and pleas. His return to McKinley after leaving Dalton brought about an unexpected, if not rocky friendship with his former bully. It was this unlikely friendship that gave Kurt the most selfish, thoughtless scheme he'd ever pulled. To this day he was still unsure why he went through with it. All he knew for sure was that he was set for revenge at whatever price.

The plan was simple. Give Dave the friendship and support he needed, then leave him when he was the most vulnerable. It was cruel, Kurt would never deny that, but at that point of his life it was the most brilliant way he could think of to get back at Dave for all he'd put him through. Give him a little taste of hell, to put it gently. But plans made in the heat of anger never turn out well. And Kurt was unprepared for the possibility that maybe, just maybe his charade of forgiveness and friendship might lead to something completely unexpected.

The bitter wounds healed over time, the strange and sweeter moments locked shut in the back of his mind. And all it took was one encounter with Dave at the fair to rip them open again.

He remembered the intense desperation that gripped him that terrible night. The night of Nationals 2012. It was the first and last time Karofsky told him he loved him. He should have just walked away, cold and heartless. But he stayed there in the rain, throwing every terrible deed right back at Dave's face after his heart was poured out. Because it wasn't enough to just walk away. He needed to convince Dave that he would never be his. Most of all, he needed to convince himself.

And even after twelve years with Blaine, his guilt over hurting Dave still haunted him. Because he couldn't admit, even to himself, that through his facade he might have learned to love Dave Karofsky. And the feeling terrified him. He couldn't allow himself to feel this way about Dave. He could never fall into the same arms that inflicted him with so much pain.

The phone rang and Kurt's thoughts were broken. He glanced at the clock. He'd been alone for an hour. He left the room, thinking of checking on Izzy before trying to get some restless sleep. The phone kept ringing. As he started on the stairs going up to the guest room, the ringing stopped. The answering machine clicked on.

_"Kurt?"_

The voice was nervous, scared, and yet hopeful.

Kurt's heart dropped at the sound of it.

* * *

_"Because the last time you saw me still burned at the back of my mind. You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye."_

_-Taylor Swift, 'Back to December'_

A/N: Confused yet? The angst will lighten up dramatically in the next chapters, promise. Reviews would be awesome! And even if you hate it, at least tell me why.

P.S

Can I get your input on which pairing you'd be interesting in seeing? I was originally going for Mike/Mercedes, but I'm also liking the idea of Azimio/Mercedes. And the chapters will have some song lyrics at the end that fit into the situation, just to give it a touch of glee-ness lol


	3. Fathers and Mothers, Sons and Daughters

A/N: Yikes! It's been a while. Been very, very busy with planning for several graduations and weddings. Actually, a friend got engaged yesterday so that's another thing that will be taking up time, but in a good way :) I've been traveling a lot as well, but I've been writing bits and pieces here and there. Sorry if it sucks, I tried my best. I'll probably go over it again and fix it. Thanks so very much for the reviews and feedback! Hope you enjoy.

Warning: Like I said in chapter 1, there is a character death so be prepared.

Chapter 3

Fathers and Mothers, Sons and Daughters

_"Kurt? You there buddy?"_

Kurt stood still. The old, childhood nickname sounded strange now. The voice was raspier than before, altered slightly by the answering machine, but the familiar warmth remained.

_"Some folks saw you at the fair today. Same folks told me there's a good chance you'd be staying with Mercedes. Listen, I was really hoping that you'd...What I mean is...ah Kurt, come on buddy, just pick up the phone."_

Hearing his name spoken that way, gentle yet strong, made him feel like he was falling back to another time. That voice was once the source of comfort and security. Hearing it again made him realize just how much he missed it. And worse, it reminded Kurt just how much he still needed him.

_"You know I'm not very good at this so I'll just say it straight. Come back home."_

Kurt turned around and ran to the kitchen. The phone's red light blinked manically in the dark. He placed one hand on the receiver. But he didn't pick up. His breath stopped short. Dread crept through and paralyzed him. The last time they spoke was one of the most shameful, terrible moments of Kurt's life. What could he possibly say to his father to apologize for what he did? Kurt waited as the silence grew heavier and longer. He was expecting the sudden click, the sound of someone giving up. But finally the voice spoke again.

_"I'm not asking. I'm telling you as a father to his son, to come back home. I know you Kurt, you wouldn't come back here unless..._

The breaking of his father's voice tore at Kurt's pride, but he still couldn't bring himself to answer the call.

_"I just want to help you."_

Kurt's fingers curled around the receiver, nearly lifting the device, but the fear kept him still.

_"We both said a lot of stupid things before, about you going to New York and other things, but that's over and done with. I want you home. Now."_

Kurt's cell phone suddenly hummed and shook, screaming for his attention. Kurt drew the phone from his pocket and checked the caller. His eyes blinked furiously.

"Blaine..."

The cell phone screen flashed the familiar name over and over. Many years ago, he would scrawl that very name within notebooks and lockers like a secret prayer. The simple name would make him smile and sing to himself, leaving him lost in hopeful teenage daydreams. He wondered if he could ever feel that way again.

He needed so desperately to feel a spark of that former happiness, to see a glimpse of Blaine's wonderful smile, to feel another brush of his caring touch. It ached to realize how deeply he missed him-the young, sweet, supportive Warbler he fell in love with. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it started, but the long years took that bright, sweet boy and changed him. And living with the ghost of what they had chilled Kurt right through the bone.

"_Kurt, please..." _Burt's voice brought him back to the present. Kurt's eyes darted from the phone to the cell, both demanding to be noticed. Blaine or his dear father. One of them he pushed away, and the other pushed _him_ away. And now here both of them were, vying for his attention.

Kurt decided it would be easier to just answer Blaine's call, apologize, and head back to New York with Izzy and forget he ever came back to Lima. He would sooner face Blaine with his cold, distant demeanor rather than return to his father. At least with Blaine, he had some idea of what to say and how to explain his departure. But with his father... he had absolutely no idea where to start. Worse yet, he didn't want to know where that confrontation might end.

"_I hope you get this message. I really hope you do. Goodnight son." _A sharp, loud click snapped through the still air. His father had finally ended the call.

Kurt sighed heavily. The choice would be easier then. He glanced at his silent cell phone, realizing that he'd missed Blaine's call as well. He quickly redialed the number, suddenly hopeful that Blaine would immediately answer and they would fix whatever problems they had right then and there. He imagined Blaine picking up the phone and working things out with him, and then they could forgive and live happily like they were meant to. They could be a family again, complete and undisturbed by the past.

What he got was a robotic voice politely telling him that the voice mail box was full. Kurt's pale hands gripped the cell phone, his eyes suddenly wet and hot with frustration. He tried calling again. The same cold reply greeted him five times. The sixth time he snapped the phone shut and nearly flung it across the room.

"Damn it! Why?" Kurt bit his lips, forcing the words out like a ragged knife through his teeth, "Every fucking time I try to do something right it never works out. It never fucking works out..." He cursed til he grew tired, the exhaustion settling over him like a strange, welcome peace. He caught a glimpse of himself in the kitchen mirror, his red eyes popping out from his pale, almost sickly face, his hair messy, limp and dull in the faint light. Then he began to laugh, a tired, crazy, pitiful kind of laugh. If someone had told him back in his youth that he would end up like this, he would have laughed. Laughed right at their smug faces and defied them with every inch of his stubborn, naive body. He might have even responded in song, singing about how much better off he was and how wonderful his future would be. But now his present was spent trying to avoid the past and all the people who came with it. And he was tired of running. There were no more songs for him. Those old melodies had vanished along with his dreams.

As a teen he imagined a life full of romance, fame, and success in the city longed for all his life. He didn't expect this. He didn't expect to come crawling back to Lima, broke, disillusioned, and isolated from people he once called family and friends. And he certainly didn't expect to return with a little girl.

And out of all the chaos and mistakes that riddled his life, that little girl was like a blooming rose in a crumbling garden. Ever since she arrived, there was a part of Kurt that awoke again. Izzy was a trace of joy for him, a reminder that he could succeed in something. With her, Kurt didn't have to worry about being accepted. It wasn't even a question. That child adored him. Though she was hard-headed and rebellious there was no doubt that Kurt was her world. When she was happy, he would be the first to know. When she was anxious and afraid, Kurt was the only one who could calm her fears. When she was hurt and wanted to cry, she would allow no one else to see her tears but him. He was her companion in everything, her defender when she was called to the principal's office or when other parents scolded her. And in caring for her, Kurt found his strength and courage returning. In many ways, she saved him. And he would never, not for a second, regret taking her in as his daughter.

Kurt opened the door to their room, his frustration and anger suddenly lifting away when she greeted him with a smile.

"Alright baby girl we both had a long day. Time for bed."

Izzy climbed clumsily into the bed, her pink pj's flopping about as she disappeared under the covers. She popped out a second later with Banjo the faithful teddy bear in her arms. Kurt sighed and laid down beside her, gathering her tiny body in his arms.

_She's so petite,_ Kurt thought fondly,_ Just like her mother._

He reached for a nearby comb and untied her hair. The long, dark blonde hair fell in tangled waves. She sat there quietly playing with Banjo as Kurt untangled the locks with the comb, lost in his thoughts. By his expert skill her stubborn hair soon began to run smoothly through his fingers. This was a ritual for them, and Kurt wasn't about to stop it anytime soon. Through seven years he'd cared for Izzy, and he noticed every change and feature as she grew. He'd seen her sparkling blonde hair turn into golden waves, and even now he noticed that her hair continued to darken. Soon it wouldn't even be considered blonde anymore. The change reminded Kurt Izzy's birth mother again.

She was named Marian, a young ballerina with dark blonde hair, a kind heart-shaped face, and soft green eyes. And she was probably the only true friend Kurt made in New York. She came at the right time, and their friendship was instant. He poured out his fears and hopes to her, and she would listen and comfort him. When she couldn't perform with the theater because of her pregnancy, he was the first to offer his help, inviting her to stay with him til she was able to support herself again. Blaine was away for the sake of business at the time, so there was nothing to stop Kurt from opening their doors to her.

Marian loved to laugh. She was quiet and reserved, but when she laughed her crystal voice filled the condo, ridding it of emptiness and silence. Kurt loved hearing it as they joked and talked through the nights. But whenever he tried to bring up the father of Marian's baby, she would change the subject, the laughter fading from her emerald eyes. Marian was determined not to speak of who he was or where he went. She wouldn't even motion his name. So Kurt didn't press her any further. Sometimes he wished he did. Then maybe he could track down the bastard who abandoned her and make him realize just what he gave up.

"Sweetie please settle down," Kurt laughed as Izzy bounced impatiently. He pulled her gently back. "Just a few more minutes and it'll be all done."

Izzy sighed and continued playing with Banjo, squishing his face and moving the head up and down as if he was talking.

Banjo had been Marian's bear, and after her sudden death the toy had been the only possession she passed down to Izzy. The teddy bear was one of Izzy's few links to her mother. She always kept him close, rarely going to sleep without him. The sight comforted Kurt. He would forever be grateful for Marian and their friendship, and even more so for the child she left behind.

"There you go Izzy girl," Kurt said, admiring his work. Izzy collapsed on the bed, yawning and crawling to settle herself against Kurt. Father and daughter laid side by side, the tiny child clinging to him, her face buried against his neck. She took a deep, noisy sniff, inhaling the scent of cologne she loved.

Kurt was surprised she didn't spray the room with the cologne in his absence. He caught Izzy spraying every room in their condo several times when he was away. Although Blaine complained about it, Kurt never scolded her. It reminded him of how he, a child of eight longing for his mother, would open her dresser drawer to fill the room with the sweet smell of perfume. He would close his eyes and imagine she was still there, beside him and ready to comfort him when he was lonely or scared. How could he scold Izzy for doing the same thing?

"Izzy, that tickles. Stop it now," Kurt laughed as he said it. Izzy was giggling against his neck. She looked up at him, her eyes shining playfully.

"You're really, really hyper tonight," Kurt said, "Must be all the sweets you ate. No more of that for a very long time, okay? Time for bed now."

The tiny girl nodded and rested her head against his chest, one arm trying to wrap around him. Though she tried to pretend to be asleep, her constant wiggling and tapping of her feet against the sheets made it obvious the girl was no where near tired.

Finally Kurt sat her up.

"Would you like me to sing to you?" Kurt asked, "Would that help you sleep?"

Izzy nodded eagerly, her chubby face beaming with delight. Her daddy rarely sang to anyone, but when he did Izzy was completely enraptured. She loved hearing him sing. She wished he would do so more often. It seemed like he only sang when he didn't find any other way of saying what he wanted to say. Izzy wondered if she could sing like him. She tried when no one was around, but she stopped at how weird and awkward she sounded. She'd leave the singing to her daddy. No one could ever sing a song like her daddy.

Kurt took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, remembering the lyrics his mother would sing to him. As a child, the melody carried him off to sleep. But as an adult with a child of his own, the song was dearer to his heart than ever before.

_"Baby mine, don't you cry. _

_Baby mine, dry your eyes._

_Rest your head close to my heart._

_Never to part, baby of mine."_

His own mother would hold him, much like he was holding his daughter right now. The late Elizabeth Hummel would keep him close as her light voice filled his ears. He would cling at her and cry from fear over something trivial, and she would calm him with this song. He used the same song to hush Izzy the first months of her life. She had been a screaming, red-faced baby who refused to calm down. After much patience, she learned to ease into sleep when he sang. And for seven years the trick still worked.

_"Little one when you play_

_Don't you mind what they say_

_Let those eyes sparkle and shine_

_Never a tear, baby of mine."_

Kurt remembered his father, the gruff and tough Burt Hummel, trying to hum along as his mother sang. After Elizabeth died he hummed the song to him alone. It a tough and broken rendition, but it calmed him just the same. The thought of his father made Kurt's voice crack suddenly, throwing the melody off. He quickly recovered, letting his voice fill the room.

_"If they knew sweet little you_

_They'd end up loving you too_

_All those same people who scold you_

_What they'd give just for the right to hold you."_

Kurt believed every word of it. Izzy had her fair share of urgent parent-teacher meetings. She was strong-willed, sensitive, and had a wildness about her that didn't match with the rigid rules of the high-class school Blaine's parents insisted she attend. Izzy had been called everything from a brat to a sociopath in the making. Kurt would listen to their complaints, worried that there was another side of her that he didn't know about. But when she showed up day after day with new bruises, scrapes, and broken bones, he promptly came to her defense. The quiet girl he raised was no delinquent. She was just defending herself. It amazed him how such toughness and sweetness could be wrapped in a tiny parcel. This child falling asleep in his arms was the real Izzy, the one only he knew. She wasn't just the silent child who would fight her way through every bully that challenged her. He remembered how terrible and terrified he felt being teased and pushed as a child, and he hated knowing that Izzy was going through the same things. He knew what it was like to be tormented, he won't let his baby girl suffer the same way. He was determined to defend her from anyone, teachers, parents, classmates, even Blaine...anyone who would go against her. The child had no one else. If he didn't defend her, no one would.

Izzy's sleepy head fell against his chest, her breathing deep and peaceful. He brushed her silky hair, finishing the song in a whisper.

_"From your head to your toes._

_You're not much, goodness knows_

_But you are so precious to me_

_Dear as can be, baby of mine."_

Izzy was soon asleep in her daddy's arms. Not wanting to rouse her awake, he continued to hum the melody, rocking her gently. He laid her down and pulled the blanket over her when he was sure she was sound asleep. He brushed her hands softly. The bandages that were wrapped around them had fallen off. Probably torn off by her own doing. She hated being constricted. Kurt sighed. He feared that Izzy's quick temper would keep her making friends, and so far his fears were founded. He worried about what might happen to her as she grew and faced harsher people than her whiny classmates. He could protect her now, but once she entered high-school he would be limited. She would need to help her self, and the fact that she had such a terrible time trying to make friends increased his anxiety. As teased and belittled as he was when he was younger, he still had some friends to run to for help. They didn't always react the way he'd hoped, and they were definitely flawed and insensitive at times, but at least they were his friends. Even now he still had Mercedes.

Kurt suddenly wanted to slap himself. Mercedes. She was the first to welcome him back, opened up her home to him and tried to get him to speak with his old friends yet how did he respond? By keeping secrets from her and acting like a complete ass. He still didn't want to tell her everything, but he knew he'd treated her unfairly. Mercedes was a kind friend, and he took advantage of that. Kurt's thoughts grew heavy with guilt. He'd find a way to make up for it. He thought of how he could apologize to her and found it challenging. Apologizing was something he wasn't very good at. He was used to being the one forgiving others and excusing their behavior, but he was unused to saying "sorry." It was difficult, if not impossible for Kurt to admit he was wrong, but for the sake of his friendship with Mercedes he would put his pride aside.

Kurt went on with the task of tidying the room. Izzy cleaned up most of it, but her crayons and papers were still sprawled on the floor. Her lonely shoe was tossed in the corner. Kurt knew that he would need to get her another pair, drained bank account or not. How he'd missed the fact that Izzy only had one shoe when they left the fair was beyond him. Probably didn't notice because he was still fuming after his confrontation with Dave.

"Karofsky." Kurt rolled his eyes. Every time Dave entered the scene the world felt like it was filled with tension and fire. Whenever Dave was near, his emotions intensified til they burned through his skin. And it irritated Kurt that Dave could still do that to him after so many years. Even after the warmth between him and Blaine faded, Kurt still felt heat with Dave. Angry, frustrated heat. Kurt crumpled the scrap paper and tossed it into the waste basket, his temper flaring again. But before he could toss all of it out, a picture caught his eye.

The page was filled with a burst of color. Blue, green, and red scrawls zigzagged all through out, creating an exaggerated image of the fair. Imperfect and messy as it was, Izzy's drawing was a pretty good snap shot of the afternoon. In her drawing there was the flying carousel, the stage, the numerous booths, the game stalls and prizes hanging from them, the gigantic wads of cotton candy and the melting ice cream cones. Kurt recognized himself and Mercedes sitting down one a bench. Izzy even exaggerated the heels of his shoes. Izzy's figure was dressed in red, a huge slushie cup on one hand and an ice cream cone on the other.

"Should have known," Kurt said, flipping through her drawings with a laugh.

While some people kept diaries, journals, or recorded themselves on audio or video, Izzy kept a collection of drawings. Back in the condo, Kurt kept a folder full of her drawings. She would draw things that happened in the day, and soon he was collecting a chronicle of her little life. It started when Blaine would ask her what happened in school. She wouldn't respond back. Instead she would draw. At first they thought she was simply making it up like kids usually do. But then they noticed how she kept drawing even in their vacations, replicating places and scenes as she saw them. Even the teachers who didn't like her were impressed with her memory. Little Izzy remembered everything. While her social skills were lacking, academically she soared easily by. He was proud of her, but at the same time it worried him. Sometimes he wished Izzy could forget as quickly as other kids. Maybe her life would be better off that way.

Kurt continued looking at the pages. His eyes bended curiously at a certain scene. There were three figures in this one. One stick figure was wearing a bright green jacket and hiding behind Izzy. He knew it was Izzy from the red dress and slushie cup. And there was another figure, one drawn with a ridiculously exaggerated head and a huge mouth that covered a fourth of the page. He wasn't sure if those were supposed to be pigtails or horns on top the inflamed head. Kurt laughed anyway. He'd have to ask Izzy about it tomorrow. He turned to the next page.

The next drawing was half-way done but Kurt knew exactly what Izzy was thinking of. There was a car with a fat man inside it, hiding. Kurt was in the picture, standing in front of a tall, square figure who he assumed to be Dave. Izzy was drawn in between them. Izzy's figure only had one shoe, the other shoe was seen at the far corner of the page, abandoned and forgotten on the pavement.

* * *

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Dave kicked the box out of his way. A dent was left on the side. He ignored it and went back to the phone. His best friend was once again on the other line, ready and waiting for his latest rambles. They'd been talking for almost two hours on speaker phone, Dave doing most of the ranting. And poor Azimio had to listen to it all.

"About what? You mean the shoe?" Azimio asked from the other end of the line, his deep voice as clear as if he were in the same room, "Look man, it's just a shoe. Just go to Mercedes's place tomorrow, tell them you have the kid's shoe and be done with it. Simple. "

"And what? Look like a creeper?" Dave groaned and lifted the rest of the boxes towards the stairs leading up to the attic, "Don't need fancy face saying any more shit about me. If he does, I'll throw the dirty slipper right at his face. Oww! Watch it Hunter. You trying to trip me boy?"

The dog jumped up from his spot on the floor and allowed his owner to pass. Hunter trotted after Dave, leaping up for some attention.

"No, no," Dave raised the torn shoe out of the dog's reach, "It's not a chew toy Hunter. On the other hand...maybe you can solve my problem and just dispose of the evidence."

"Man, it's just a shoe! I don't think anyone, gay or straight, has been more stressed over a pair of shoes than you. And that's saying something."

"It's not about the damn shoe." Dave snapped. He carried a heavy box upstairs and tossed it in the attic. Not caring if the contents broke or not. They were his to break anyways.

"Okay..."Azimio said, "If it ain't about the shoes then-"

"I saved his kid's life. The most he could do was fucking thank me. And who the hell was crazy enough to give him a kid?"

"So it's about the kid?" Azimio asked dryly, "Or maybe it's her dad that's got you all strung up."

Dave didn't answer and continued to throw boxes into the attic. Hunter barked into the speaker as if to answer for him.

"Knew it," Azimio said, "Even your damn dog knows something's up."

"What?"

"It's obvious man. You still got a little something there for dear old Fancy,"

"What makes you so sure?"

"You've been talking about him for two hours straight. Believe me. I know." Azimio said, "Here's an idea D, why don't you just hang up and talk to him instead?"

"Because he won't listen."

"Cause you're not even trying." Azimio argued, "Just talk to him. What's there to lose?"

Dave didn't want to answer him.

"Look Az, I'll just talk to you tomorrow. I need to finish putting these damn boxes away."

"Alright man, just remember what I said,"

"Right." Dave hung up the phone. After two hours of talking with his best friend, he felt like he accomplished nothing. Azimio was there for him like a brother, but when it came to matters of the heart he was just as lost as anybody. Dave just didn't know who else he could talk to. He wished his father was still around. Dave shuddered thinking of his father. He missed him immensely. Whenever he was troubled his father would sense it right away, no words were needed. His father would be ready to help, always having the right thing to say, always having kindness in his eyes. But all that was gone now. Now he had to face his problems on his own, no father to guide or protect him.

The silence of his dark house only highlighted how alone he felt. Even Hunter was quiet now, curling into a big, dark, bushy red ball of fur at the bottom of the stairs.

He pushed the last of the boxes into the attic and began to sort them out. The boxes were filled with materials used for the fair. He stacked the boards on one side of the attic while separating the other materials. A dim light hung above him, spreading a dull green glow in the darkness.

Dave thought about what Azimio said. He really should talk to Kurt. But once he started talking there was no way of telling where there conversation might lead. Hell, back at the fair he wanted to say a lot more to Kurt, and he would have too...if it wasn't for the kid.

And that kid was something else. She never said a word yet her wide green eyes made him feel so vulnerable, like she could read him as easily as a picture book. There was something about her soft smile that both eased and intrigued him. She might have spoken to him too, if Kurt didn't barge in and cause a scene.

He finished piling the boxes away when his eyes fell on a dark red box pushed into the the far corner of the attic. He pulled it towards him, the dust and cobwebs sticking to his sleeves as he yanked the box free. He smiled when he recognized the cover, an emblem of his high-school football team. He brought the box down stairs, shut the attic and brought the box into the tiny living room. He brushed the dirt away and lifted the cover.

"Can't believe I still have this," Dave laughed. He pulled out his old Letterman jacket. The red was still bold against the white, and the giant T beamed proudly at the sleeve. He once wore the jacket like armor. He probably treated that jacket better than most of the students at McKinley. But now it was just a relic, another reminder of his less honorable times. He put the jacket aside and continued to look through the treasures within. His yearbooks were all there along with a few medals and trophies, even the embarrassing certificate claiming he was the best math student in his class. Then he reached into the box and fumbled around til his hands reached something cold and hard. When he pulled it out to the light, his smile disappeared.

It was a crown. He stared at it. For a moment he was just a seventeen year old boy, racing out of the crowded gym with no one to run to and no one to run after him. Few moments could out match the humiliation and hurt he felt then. It was also when it first hit him, truly and painfully hit him that he was alone. Kurt had Blaine and his friends to support and cheer for him. But all he could do was run. Run far and fast so no one could see who he really was.

The crown's matching scepter was next to be drawn out. It was bent from when Dave threw it against the wall out of frustration. He tried to fix it but it only made the dent worse. He put the scepter and crown aside, grateful to have many years separating him from prom night.

A familiar bright red beret greeted him next. His feelings were mixed as he unfolded the old Bully Whips uniform. He hated the outfit Santana forced him to wea.. But at the same time he was grateful for creating that stupid club. If it wasn't for the Bully Whips, he wouldn't have gotten a chance to talk with Kurt. It was because of that damn club that he finally gathered enough courage to apologize to the only person who really deserved it. Earning Kurt's forgiveness was what mattered. And on that day when he apologized, cried, and told Kurt to wait for him, he thought he'd reached it. He thought wrong. Kurt would never forgive him. A thousand apologizes wouldn't be enough to move Kurt's heart. He learned that the hard way.

The box was nearly empty now. One of the last items was one that haunted Dave til this day. It was the infamous wedding topper. The one he stupidly took from Kurt before threatening to kill him. Dave's thoughts and emotions were all jumbled now. He was angry at himself for ever saying something so stupid, so harsh and uncalled for, especially to someone he had feelings for...feelings he didn't know how to deal with. Hell, even now he still didn't know how to deal with.

And Kurt knew that. And he took advantage of it. He made Dave believe that he was forgiven. He spent time with him, talking and advising him until they became close friends. Or so Dave thought. Kurt played with his emotions like a careless child plays with matches. Kurt made him believe that he could depend on him for support and friendship. But when the time came to truly test his words, the beautiful boy simply gave a cold smile.

He didn't even have the heart to just walk away in peace.

No. Kurt had to leave him in ruins, his reputation broken and the school board ready to throw him out for good. Perhaps the only good thing that came from it was the unexpected support and defense of Kurt's old friends. He never thought he'd see the day when New Directions would defend him over Kurt. They weren't the most eloquent of defenders, but he was grateful for them nonetheless. From the time they vouched for Dave a wedge had been placed between them and Kurt, a wedge that would eventually lead to Kurt betraying them at Nationals 2012.

What Kurt did to him was more damaging than physical abuse. The feeling still radiated as strongly as it did when Kurt left him. Whenever that porcelain face intruded his thoughts, or when that name was spoken aloud, the pain sparked again. He could understand why Kurt would hate him and want revenge. What he couldn't understand was why Kurt was willing to destroy his own friendships in order to do it. Was it really worth losing them over? Did Kurt want to hurt him so much he was willing to hurt everyone else in the process? Or did he do it for other reasons? And he remembered what his friends would say about Kurt...how a he was such a terrible liar. If Kurt couldn't lie to save his life, then why did their moments alone seem so real? So genuinely hopeful and happy? Or maybe it was Dave who was the bigger fool, so desperate for any connection with Kurt he couldn't see past the mask he wore.

Dave tossed the wedding topper carelessly away from him, anger quickly seething in him. It seemed like everything lead him back to Kurt. Without even trying, it seemed the best and worst memories were tied to that boy. No, not a boy any more. A man. A man with a daughter and a life separate from his own.

There were two pictures left in the box. The first one was from his high school graduation. He was dressed with all the regalia of a proud graduate. His father was on his right side, smiling like he'd never known sadness before, his huge hand waving Dave's diploma in the air. Dave's mother was on the left side, a bright glow on her face as she hugged her only son. His father's proud face calmed him even now, but his mother's smile unnerved him. Just by looking at her, no one would ever conclude that her only child was one Dave Karofsky. She was the opposite of her husband and son. She was tall, slender, with dark brown hair and soft green doe eyes that could turn fierce in an instant. Alyssandra Karofsky was a serious, perfectionist of a lady, but the photo managed to capture a side she rarely displayed...the image of a loving mother.

Dave was silently glad that he didn't come out before graduation. Otherwise, this picture wouldn't have been so joyous.

The next picture was smudged a bit, but he could still make out the Ferris wheel and board walk games that lined the fair. It was taken in New York, a few months after he came out to his family and fled from Lima. In the picture he was sitting on a bench with a girl beside him, her heart-shaped face beaming with laughter as she showed off the teddy bear he won for her.

"Marian," Dave whispered.

He hadn't seen and heard from her in years. Though they didn't part in the best of terms, he still called and emailed her, just to make sure she was okay. She never answered him.

He placed the photo carefully into his shirt pocket, immediately thinking of calling Santana first thing in the morning. If she would finally pick up. The woman was too damn busy with her clients that Dave wondered if she even had time to remember him. He wondered how weird it was that Santana and Marian, despite being complete opposites, were the two people who helped him when he was confused and lost-Santana back in high school when he tried to make amends with Kurt, and Marian back in New York when he tried to find Kurt.

"Kurt," Dave said.

Everything lead back to Kurt.

As if to confirm it, a tiny bottle rolled into view. Dave reached for it. Even after years in the attic the smooth, clear bottle still had a trace of the fragrant cologne. Kurt's cologne.

Dave held the cold bottle til it warmed in his hand. It was a souvenir from happier times, when he felt like he had the chance to make things right and finally win Kurt as his own. Many assumed that their last meeting was twelve years ago, senior year high school. Only he and Kurt knew the truth.

Nearly eight years ago, Dave had gone to New York not only to escape his family, but to find Kurt... to tell him that he was ready to be whoever Kurt needed him to be. And when he finally found Kurt, the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Kurt was lonely and unsure of his life, and Blaine was far away on a month-long excursion in Europe. So in Blaine's absence, Dave took his chances. And Kurt welcomed it. Those few short weeks together with Kurt were the happiest times of his life.

Even after all Kurt did to hurt him, even after Kurt told him over and over that Blaine would always be his first and only choice, even after he knew that their affair be forgotten one day, Dave still found happiness with him. He couldn't recall another time when he was that free and eager to wake each morning, knowing he'd have Kurt in his arms. "I love you" was never mentioned once in their whole time together, for Dave there was no need to. Kurt knew that he loved him, perhaps a bit too much. And he knew that Kurt would go back to Blaine when it was over. But he loved him nonetheless. If anything, it only intensified his feelings, knowing and fearing that each night together could be their last. Then one morning he awoke alone. And even though he knew it was coming, the emptiness in his arms ached more than the pain in his heart. He told himself that this was how it would be, that Kurt only did what was right. But he couldn't help but hate him. It was a terrible feeling, loving and hating someone at the same time. And since then whenever he thought of Kurt, the strange mix of love and hate filled him.

The cologne bottle was all Kurt left behind, the only evidence of their affair. Dave loved the scent of the perfume and through the years he'd brought and used the same kind. He thought he'd lost the original bottle years ago, and now here it was in his hands. He put the bottle away at the bottom of the box, covering it with the Letterman jacket and other relics.

Kurt's departure marked the beginning of many struggles. Marian urged him to stay in New York. Dave suspected that she might have been in love with him. But she didn't deserve to be caught in the mess he made with Kurt. So Dave left without telling her, seeing it more merciful to just walk out of her life rather than make her promises he couldn't keep. When he returned to Lima he found himself fatherless, homeless, and penniless. Ironically it was Puckerman and Hudson who were the first to help him out. Finn offered him a place to stay while Puck gave him the honor of being the first hired employee of his home services business. And from there he began to rebuild his life.

Fate had a weird way of playing with him. The same people he smashed heads with a few years ago were the same ones he now owed his life to. People he'd never expected to ever like him were now his closest friends, and those he was once close to all disappeared somewhere in the background like an ugly scar.

Only Kurt left wounds that refused to heal.

He closed the box after he'd placed the rest of the materials in. There was no use trying to imagine what could have been. Daydreaming was a waste of time. He had his chance with Kurt. It would be foolish to think his sudden arrival meant more chances. Kurt made his choice very clear. There was nothing else he could do. What Dave wanted now was to continue living life without having Kurt's ghost loom over him.

And just what did Kurt want? Why did he decide to pop up right when his life was finally getting some stability? And that child he brought with him...just who was that girl? How the hell did Kurt ever get a kid? Judging by her age, the girl had to be born sometime after he and Kurt parted ways.

Before Dave went to his room, he put the girl's missing shoe in a paper bag. He made up his mind to return the damn thing to Kurt, just to show that he wasn't effected anymore. What's done was done. If Kurt didn't want him around, then Dave would let him fume and fuss to his cold heart's content. He wouldn't let Kurt dictate his emotions anymore. Dave told himself that he needed to learn how to function with a brain in Kurt's presence. And he would start tomorrow by returning the little shoe.

The moment he settled into bed he heard the fast tapping of paws. Faithful Hunter entered in and curled up at the foot of his bed, yawning silently before laying his furry head down for the night.

It was early morning when sleep finally took Dave. And even in his dreams Kurt was there. Dave cursed. He just wanted some peace. Damn bastard couldn't even give him that.

* * *

"Okay boy, what the hell happened?" Mercedes asked. She woke up the next morning to find breakfast ready and waiting. Kurt was busy putting finishing touches on the dishes laid out on the table. Even though he'd only been cooking, Kurt was all dressed up as if he actually had somewhere to go. His hair was neatly combed to the side, his clothes crisp and clean, concealer carefully dabbed under his glassy eyes.

"I guess I'm trying to say sorry." Kurt said. His eyes barely lifted to look at her, "I've been such an ass lately."

"Hm...we finally agree on something."Mercedes raised an eyebrow in surprise. Kurt admitting his mistakes was rare enough, having him cook breakfast to accompany said apology was a miracle.

"I don't know if you've noticed Cedes, but it's easier to pull a fucking rabbit out of a mermaid's ass than to get an apology from these lovely lips." Kurt said, trying to smile, "Take it easy on me."

"Vulgar much?" Mercedes joked. She took a seat and stacked waffles onto her plate, piling them with strawberries and cream.

"Please, I rarely say anything blunt or profane nowadays cause Izzy's always around. I miss it. And she's dead asleep right now so...I'll take the opportunities when they come okay?." Kurt said. He placed a plate of sliced fruit beside Mercedes. He leaned towards her, "But you know I really do mean it. I'm sorry for being difficult. I shouldn't have treated you like that."

"But you're still not gonna tell me what's going on are you?" Mercedes said.

Kurt sighed, his eyes downcast.

"I will," He said, "Just not now. I'm still trying to figure it out myself."

"What's there to figure out? I know you know what's upsetting you. And it's got something to do with Dave." Mercedes said, biting into the waffles. They were delicious. She kept munching along. Kurt remained silent, unwilling to feed the conversation.

"You're so damn lucky you're a damn good cook." Mercedes said.

"Does that mean you forgive me?" Kurt said hopefully, sneaking a plate of muffins closer to her.

"Forgiveness ain't cheap boy," Mercedes said, "But keep this up every morning and I may consider it. Just maybe." She rolled her eyes as Kurt hugged her.

"You're too much," Kurt said.

"I know, I know. I'm Ms. Fabulous. Mercedes the Magnificent." Mercedes said, pushing him playfully, "But don't think I'm letting you off that easy."

Before Kurt could respond the doorbell rang.

"Good thing you cooked breakfast cause we've got company," Mercedes winked. Kurt's stomach flopped.

"You're expecting someone?" Kurt asked , hoping she didn't pull another scheme to try and get him to confront their old friends.

"Yes. Every Tuesday morning around this time he comes here. One of my favorite people in the world, next to you that is," Mercedes said, heading for the door.

"Who is this exactly?" Kurt asked, wanting to know if he could break through the kitchen window to escape Puck, or Sam,or Quin, or whoever might be waiting.

"Oh, you'll know when you see him," Mercedes called out. The front door swung open. Kurt could hear Mercedes fussing over the new comer like a worried mother.

"When did you get so skinny? Get on in the kitchen baby. We got breakfast on the table." Mercedes said, her voice lighter and sweeter than usual

"Um...Dad told me to bring some food over with me this time. Is it ok Mama Cedes?"

Kurt was surprised. He wasn't expecting a kid's voice.

"Of course it's ok. It's not tofu again this time is it?" Mercedes asked. She strolled into the kitchen looking into a green container, smiling when she saw that it was filled with candied almonds.

"Dad says that I need to stay with you til he gets back. He doesn't ever get back earlier than nine." The child's voice said.

"No problem. I have someone I want you to meet." Mercedes replied.

The child walked in right after her, a bag full of music over one shoulder and a sports duffel bag on the other.

"Kurt," Mercedes smiled, "I'd like you to meet Michael Chang Jr." The black woman placed the kid in front of her proudly, her warm hands over his skinny shoulders.

Even if she didn't introduce him that way, Kurt saw the resemblance instantly. The boy was tall for his age, skinny, and had a thick jolt of black hair that stuck up like grass. His face was smooth, bright, and sported such a playful, genuine smile that Kurt couldn't help but smile back in spite of the shock. The kid was a dead ringer for Mike Chang. From the eyes that hid behind glasses to his steady feet, the kid was his father's son from head to toe.

"_The_ Kurt?" The kid looked up at Mercedes for confirmation, "The same one you and Dad keep talking about?"

"Really? And what exactly did they say about me?" Kurt asked, casting an irritated glance at his best friend.

"We only said that you were an excellent singer," Mercedes shrugged and shooed Mike Jr. over to a seat, "And that we missed you a lot."

"Is that so?" Kurt said.

"Yup." Mercedes said. She took the kid's bags and laid them on the far side of the kitchen, "And you've got a lot to live up to. We told him that sometimes, on very rare occasions, you could sing even better than me. And I lie to you not, when we told him that, his mind was blown. You're like a legend to him now."

"Well then, I'm very pleased to meet you...Jr." Kurt said, reaching out to shake the boy's hand. The kid shook his hand vigorously, a bright glow on his face. Kurt realized that very few people had actually greeted him this warmly on a first meeting. He liked the boy already.

"Everyone calls me Mickey," The kid said. He settled in a seat next to Kurt. "Dad always makes me watch these old videos from when he and Mom were in New Directions. He points you out during the songs."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But that's cause I've seen everyone else in real life but you" Mickey said, "I'm really glad to finally meet you though! Are you gonna teach music like Ma Cedes?

"Oh no no no." Kurt said, "I don't think I can."

"Just give it a shot," Mercedes urged, "You can start by helping me teach Mickey his scales."

"I need lots of help." Mickey said sheepishly. He was suddenly conscious, "I'm not very good. Not as good as Mom anyways. Dad says that I take after her...but I don't think so. I can't really si-"

"Hey! Let's finish this breakfast first. Can't skip the most important meal of the day right? That's what your Dad always says. Can't let the pancakes get cold. No one makes em like Kurt. They're delicious. You'll love them." Mercedes said quickly. She poured fruit on a giant plate before smothering some warm pancakes with syrup and butter. Next she tossed cereal and fruit into a big bowl of milk, stacked french toast over a plate of scrambled eggs and filled a tall, cold glass of orange juice. She gave all of it to Mickey.

"And you best finish all of it." Mercedes said. "No leftovers when you're under my roof, you hear?"

"Thanks Mama Cedes," Mickey dug into the french toast eagerly, the syrup nearly smearing his glasses.

"He was the one who came up with that nickname," Mercedes whispered to Kurt, "It stuck ever since."

Kurt recalled Azimio calling her by that nickname at the fair. Before he could ask any questions about Mike the quick, familiar pitter-patter of tiny feet speed down the stairs.

Izzy appeared in the kitchen like a bolt of lightening. Her long hair was poofy and swirled in tangles around her face. She looked around curiously at the sight before her, eyes narrowing when she spotted the green jacket. Her face lit up with recognition. Like an arrow she dashed to the unsuspecting Mickey who was happily stuffing his face with fruit.

"Izzy no!" Kurt was too late. Izzy was too fast.

Mickey nearly spat out his food when Izzy rushed to greet him. Unfortunately she decided to greet him by playfully patting him on the back. Well, at least she thought it was patting. To him it felt more like a full-blown smack.

"Ooowww!" Mickey crunched his teeth together in pain. His eyes snapped shut as if it would somehow stop the ache. When his eyes opened again Izzy was beside him, a shy, apologetic look on her face.

"Izzy?" Mickey asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise, "How'd you get here? And what was that for?"

"Hold on. You know my daughter?" Kurt asked.

"Um...yeah, we met yesterday in the fair. I kinda ran into her. Made her spill her ice cream. She got mad and chased me." Mickey explained, bumbling over his words, "And then Mia came and screamed at us. Mia always screams."

Kurt remembered Izzy's drawings from last night. The picture of Izzy with two other children, one wearing a green jacket while the other was drawn with a gigantic open mouth.

"Mia's still mad cause of what happened to her shoes by the way. You got her real good." Mickey whispered to Izzy. The small girl replied with a mischievous smile.

"That girl needs to have some limits set on her," Mercedes sighed, "If Finn doesn't stop spoiling her she'll be running that house like a-"

"Wait a second..." Mickey sat up on his seat, his brain ticking. He looked up at Kurt. "Aren't you brothers with Uncle Finn? He keeps saying that you're his brother."

"Yes...I guess I still am," Kurt answered. He felt strangely pleased and surprised to learn that Finn still acknowledged him as family.

"Whoa...and since you're Izzy's Dad...,"Mickey turned to Izzy, the realization plain on his face, "Hey Izzy! That means you and mega-mouth Mia are _cousins._"

Izzy's face flushed pale.

"Mickey, we do not call other people mean names," Mercedes gently scolded him, "Mia may have an attitude problem but she's still your friend. And Izzy's cousin. You all need to learn to get along."

Mickey's head turned down, his attention suddenly fixed on his food. He was a very docile child, quick to correct and a favorite among the grown ups for being the easy kid who didn't give them any problems. He was open to guidance and teaching. Izzy, on the other hand was not so easily moved. Her face remained sour. She had near perfect memory, and bad first impressions were hard to forgive.

"Izzy baby enough of that. Come eat breakfast with Mickey," Kurt moved and placed Izzy on the seat beside the skinny boy.

The small girl's ill mood shifted when Mickey drew faces on the pancakes with the syrup and whipped cream. She dropped some berries on the pancake faces to make blue eyes and missing teeth. Soon both children were laughing at their silly creations, their high, youthful voices filling the house. They took huge bites from the pancakes at a time, nearly racing to see who would finish first. Izzy had the artistic mind to pour strawberry syrup on her pancake's face after she gorged out an eye. Mickey tore off a piece of bread and applied it over the wound like a bandage.

"Alright you two, finish your food. All of it, don't wanna see a single scrap left." Mercedes said, "And after you're all done, then you can play."

"K' Ma Cedes," Mickey said, his mouth mumbled from sticky pancake . Izzy tossed an unwanted blueberry in his plate when no one looked. Mickey retaliated by putting butter in her orange juice. Both ended up with syrup covering their hands and faces. And oddly enough, neither of them minded.

"Hey. Hold up. Wait. A. Second. What did I say?" Mercedes asked, even though she didn't really want an answer. This time both children turned to their plates in peace. But not before Izzy managed to give Mickey a quick kick for the pepper he dashed in her food.

As the kids tried to finish their meal, the two adults cleaned up the rest of the kitchen. After clearing up the counter top and gathering the dishes, Kurt washed them clean while Mercedes dried and put them away.

"Goodness boy, you went all out with that breakfast," Mercedes said, "I'm getting a workout just cleaning it all up."

"Well I wanted to let you know how sorry I am," Kurt said with a slight shrug, "I wanted to cook all your favorite breakfast dishes. Make it special."

"And you didn't even get close." Mercedes shook her head in mock disappointment, "You forgot the tots! And I like hot tea with lemon. And I like my eggs done sunny-side up. Great, now you gone and woke the diva."

"Guess I have," Kurt laughed, "I won't disappoint next time."

"Boy, you better not," Mercedes flicked dish water on his shirt. Like a maniac he tried blocking it with the dish towel just to smack Mercedes in the arm instead. Soon their laughter joined that of the two children at the table. For a moment Kurt's heart lifted lighter than it ever had since his arrival. For a little while he felt like a kid again, just goofing off with his best friend.

* * *

After breakfast, they took the kids outside to play in the backyard. The backyard was bursting with flowers of all colors and classes. Izzy marveled at it and spent almost an hour going through them all, finding it difficult to pick out a favorite. Mickey in turn, showed her all the bugs and creeping crawling things one could possibly find in a garden. They ended up chasing each other through the open grass, each with their own worm clenched at hand.

Their game went on until finally Izzy won by knocking Mickey over. Mickey quickly liked Izzy. She wasn't afraid to touch bugs, or run, or get herself dirty and messy, and she didn't interrupt him when he was talking. That in itself was pretty awesome.

And Izzy liked Mickey too. He was probably the first and fastest friend she ever made. He didn't treat her like a freak, and remarkably, he wasn't impatient. If she wouldn't respond, he wouldn't give up. He'd just find some other way for her to communicate with him.

The two children fell at the shade of the huge tree overlooking the grass, each taking a gulp of the lemonade Kurt brought out for them.

"And then, and then Mia couldn't wait, so she tried to clean up her shoes herself. She goes and dumps it in the washing machine. When it came out, it looked like...well...like ugly, torn up shoes. We couldn't get her to stop. Uncle Finn tried to call Mia's mom but I don't know if she got to talk to her..." Mickey continued with his third story about Finn's attempts to appease mega-mouth Mia. Izzy listened intently with amusement, munching down on candied almonds as she laid back on the grass. Kurt listened in as well. As Mickey's story went on it became more evident that Kurt missed so much. Twelve years was a long time. And Kurt had next to no idea of what became of his friends and even of his stepbrother.

"Finn's sounds like a pushover," Kurt whispered to Mercedes. He raised a glass of lemonade to his soft lips.

"You said it," Mercedes toasted, "He's a bigger pushover than you. I can understand him though...happens all the time in these situations. One parent's away and the one taking care of the kid feels guilty so they spoil the kid to death. Like it would make up for it."

The two old friends were sitting down on wooden benches, a blue umbrella over them.

"How are they by the way?" Kurt asked. He set his glass down and removed his dark blue sunglasses.

"Who? Finn?"

"No. Everybody," Kurt replied."I really have no clue about what to expect when I finally meet them. I mean, a few hours ago I had no idea Mike had a son. What else do I have to know?"

"Well...like I said, most of us left cow town Lima at some point. But a lot of us came back," Mercedes explained, "Britney's been around."

"What else is new?" Kurt joked.

"Oh, come on. Seriously?" Mercedes said, but there was still a small smile on her beaming face, "What I meant is that she's been everywhere. It's crazy. Dance teacher. Motivational speaker. Gossip columnist. Her latest gig is being a veterinarian's assistant, specializing in feline diseases. Sam's even worse. He's done nearly everything. Last time we talked he was working on some novel he wants to publish, some fantasy-scifi stuff. You know how much he loves those. And contrary to Rachel's prediction, Santana's job does not involve a pole. Most of the time."

"Does it involve selling souls or back mail?" Kurt asked innocently with a disdained twist on his lips. Santana was a force to be reckoned with. Last time he saw her, she nearly clawed his face off.

"Close. She's a private investigator. Got her training in L.A. She's never disappointed a client. She only moved back here cause the offices couldn't handle her back there. Too many hot heads." Mercedes said, "Rumor goes, she's bent a few laws and backs to get what she wants in a case. Girl's a tough one to beat. But you team her up with Quin and there's no way anyone will survive that."

"Quin Fabray?"

"Attorney Q. Fabray," Mercedes said, "As for the rest, Zizes went off to be a pro wrestler. Artie's in California working as a special effects technician. Oh, Finn's mom started this small florist shop with my mom. And remember Puck's pool cleaning business? Boy went and turned it into a full-blown house services business. Finn and Dave are part owners. Those three be making a killing-"

"Dave? Since when did Dave work with Puck and Finn?"

"Since he came back from New York 'round eight years ago. I was hoping he'd bring some news 'bout you but guess you guys didn't see each other. Anyways, when he came back Finn and Puck helped him stand on his own two feet. Never been prouder of my boys." Mercedes said, watching for Kurt's reaction. He put his sunglasses back on, his arms folded across his chest.

"I thought Finn and Puck hated the guy," Kurt said.

"Oh they did alright. Until he came crawling back to Lima. Poor boy was a dollar short of living in a cardboard box." Mercedes replied with a sigh, "Puck and Finn may not be bright. They ain't saints either but they still got their hearts in the right place."

Kurt decided to change the subject. This talk of Dave was making him anxious.

"I was thinking that maybe we could go to the mall or something. I want to get Izzy new shoes, we lost one shoe at the fair yesterday. I can't keep her in socks forever."

"Shopping?" Mercedes was all excited now, "You're on. We can go for lunch."

Izzy's wild laughter interrupted them. She was pointing and giggling at the sight of Mickey, elbows and knees strapped with pads and a huge helmet encompassing nearly his entire head.

"Hey, watch this Izzy," Mickey said. He lifted his toes. There was a soft click. Wheels popped out from under his black and green sneakers. He put one foot forward and glided down the pavement, waving at Izzy as he whizzed by.

Izzy chased him down the pavement and onto the sidewalk. Mickey skated around her, showing off his latest tricks.

"So what's Mike up to now? Besides being a doctor?" Kurt asked.

Izzy grabbed Mickey's jacket and spun him around. The boy went spinning off into the grass. Their laughter warmed the air.

"Well, the good doctor has his own practice in town. He also makes rounds in the hospital if his patients are there. Oh, and he's planning a summer camp. And he's looking for people to work for him, " Mercedes nudged Kurt's arm, "And he'll need all the help he can get."

"I'll think about it Cedes," Kurt said, continuing his watch on the children, "Mike sounds like a busy man. I guess he ended up with Tina right? It was so obvious even in high school. How's she doing? Is she out of town or something? I haven't heard anything about her. She probably takes care of Mickey though."

"No. I do," Mercedes fumbled with her glass awkwardly. She kept glancing at Mickey.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, worried that he might have said something out of line.

Mercedes waited until the children were chasing each other on the other end of the side walk til she spoke again.

"Tina passed away when Mickey was two. They were all the way at Washington DC at the time. They had it going on, the jobs, the house, the kid. And then...gone. Just like that. Mike came back here with Mickey. Poor guy didn't know what to do." Mercedes said softly, "He was devastated."

Kurt's words vanished before he could speak them. He and Tina weren't the closest of friends, but they were part of the same group, faced similar struggles and celebrated in victories. And this news of her death, no matter how late it was received, still struck him deeply. Kurt was terrified of Death. He hated the separation and uncertainty that came with it, that dreadful knowledge that you would never be with someone you love once they died. His breath caught in this throat.

"We tried to call you," Mercedes said kindly, "But your number changed."

"What happened to her?" Kurt asked, "How did she-"

"You need to ask Mike," Mercedes said, "It's really personal. I don't think he's really over it. He was expecting to live his whole life with her. If any one could make it, it was them."

"I-I can't believe it. I don't want to." Kurt said. He remembered how difficult it was for his father when his mom died, and he wondered how such terrible events could have effected Mike. "But at least they have a son. And he looks so much like Mike."

"Looks, acts...hell, he even thinks like his Dad." Mercedes said, finally smiling just a bit, "Tina would have been proud."

Looking at Mickey, there wasn't much of Tina at all. The boy was all Mike. And watching him interact with Izzy just made it more obvious.

"Ask your Dad if you can get wheelys. Then we can race!" Mickey said, "I can teach you. I even have some old helmets and skate pads that might fit you. If your Dad won't get you wheelys, it's ok. We can always just bike straight down the street til we get to Uncle Finn's place. You know how to bike right?"

Izzy shook her head. Her Daddy wouldn't let her go out on the street at all. And the playground at her school was small and closed off with iron bars. There was no place for her to learn how to skate or bike.

"Really? You don't bike? Never even tried?"

No.

"Umm...play soccer?"

No.

"Go paint balling?"

No

"Play football?"

No.

No.

No.

To everything she answered by shaking her head. No.

"Whoa..." Mickey stared at her in shock, his eyes ablaze with a new found mission, "I guess I gotta lot to teach you then."

Izzy rolled her eyes, sighed, and shrugged her shoulders, reluctantly agreeing to be his student in the art of having a childhood. The peaceful moment vanished when she took his green sleeve and swung him round and round til he was making circles around her. He crashed into the grass head-long. But instead of rushing up to harass Izzy for being too rough or difficult, he would just straighten his crooked glasses and laugh like it was the most delightful thing in the world to be pushed over by a girl.

The child was encouraging and kind, and by the looks of it very slow to ridicule others. Plus, he was making such an effort to become friends with Izzy. Mike was the same way, he did after all befriend the outcasts of their school back in the day. It seemed like his son learned it from him.

"After Tina's death, Mike came back," Mercedes said, "He was so angry and confused. I've never seen him like that. He didn't know what to do with baby Mickey. I kinda took care of the kid for two weeks while Mike got his act together."

"It took awhile for me and my Dad to deal with losing Mom," Kurt said, "It was horrible. How did Mike cope?"

"As well as anyone would," Mercedes said "He's Mike after all..."

She didn't tell him that Mike would drink himself half blind every night of Tina's death anniversary. She didn't tell him of how much he still loved his dead wife, going through their old photos and videos as if it would somehow bring her back. Of how he would look at Mickey and wish he was less like him and more like Tina.

"He's still Mike, but he's definitely not the same. Not since Tina died," Mercedes said carefully, "We helped him whenever he could. But you know who helped him out the most?"

"Who?"

"Your Dad," Mercedes said, smiling, "He listened to your Dad more than anyone else. Guess they could identify with the loss. Kurt, you okay? You don't look well."

Kurt nodded. It was strange how it didn't surprise him. His father might not be eloquent, but he was a man of good advice. It seemed ironic that Kurt didn't follow his words while others did.

"He's been such a father figure to so many people since you left...I guess he just misses being a Dad. Hell, even Puck went to him for advice about trying to meet Beth again. Your father is one hell of a man. Exceptional."

And at one point, that exceptional man was all Kurt's. Then he had to learn to share him to Finn and Carol. And now he had a new host of people to contend with.

Kurt watched the two children playing in the grass, running and laughing without a care in the world. As different as they were, the three of them were connected by a common loss. He, Izzy, Mickey, had all lost their mothers. At different times and different ways, but still the loss remained. They were connected. All through their lives they would carry the shadow of someone else.

"Hey boy. Remember you said we'd go shopping," Mercedes broke through his thoughts. It was a welcome interruption, "Let's get your girl some shoes. Then afterwards, lunch, my treat."

* * *

"Are you sure these are safe?" Kurt asked. He opened shoe box for the twentieth time in line. A pair of pink and white wheelys stared up at him. He looked at the line ahead of him. Only three more customers before he was up.

"They gotta be. Mike let Mickey have a pair," Mercedes replied.

"Yes, with a full armor of protective gear,"

He really didn't want to get Izzy the wheelys. She was reckless enough with normal shoes. What kind of trouble would she get into with shoes that could turn into skates?

"But that's how Mickey always looks when he's doing anything remotely athletic. Mike's only got one kid, he's not planning on throwing him in harms way anytime soon. Izzy will be safe. These things got redesigned to be fool-proof."

Before Kurt could argue, Izzy appeared at his side. She stepped on her tip toes to look inside the box, just to make sure the shoes were really there. One look at her excited little face dropped all arguments from Kurt's mind. He couldn't deny her. He felt too guilty. Izzy never made friends this fast, if at all, and when Mickey offered to help teach her how to skate the girl became restless with excitement. Kurt didn't want to disappoint her. When he finally paid for the shoes, he fought back a gulp at the price. His could sense his bank account draining faster the longer they stayed in Lima. He would need to consider taking up a job if he planned on staying longer.

"Awesome. Now we can race," Mickey said. After the new shoes were bought, Izzy pulled them from the box and stuffed her feet inside. They were white with pink stripes on the side, and thick pink laces tied neatly on the top.

"Don't use the wheels until we get home sweetie, okay?" Kurt told his daughter. Izzy nodded but Kurt doubted if she was actually listening. Her mind was clearly somewhere else.

"Good lord, it's blazing!" Mercedes wiped her brow. As soon as they stepped outside the air-conditioned shoe shop, they were met with an open blue sky and a bright, burning sun. The local mall had been closed for renovations so they went instead to a brand new, large shopping center nearby. The stores lined up on either side, the open air and walkways in between. It reminded Kurt of the outlet centers Carole once took him too.

"So...who's hungry?" Mercedes asked. Izzy raised her hand and nodded. Mickey's stomach growled. Mercedes lead them into a crowded restaurant specializing in sandwiches, listing all her current favorites as they waited for a server to attend them. They found a table on the outside of the restaurant, the view allowing them to observe the shoppers passing by.

"Well aren't we a sight," Kurt whispered to Mercedes as the kids devoured their meals. All around them crowds of families huddled in tiny tables. A few awkward, curious eyes drifted their way.

"Hmm?" Mercedes replied. She was busy sipping away at her strawberry smoothie.

"Just look at us. A gay white man, a black woman, an Asian boy, and a restless little girl all seated in one table." Kurt laughed, "Can't imagine what everyone else is thinking."

"Doesn't really matter what they think," Mickey spoke up, "They're not having as much fun as we are. Right Izzy?"

The boy smiled and high-fived his newest friend. Kurt wanted to hug Mickey so much right then. Mike taught his son well.

"Oh snap, the choir robes." Mercedes smacked herself on the forehead as she checked her phone, "I was supposed to pick them up yesterday. Got distracted though. But never mind that, I'll just get them today, the shop's on the other side anyways. You mind staying with the kids Kurt?"

"Of course not," Kurt answered, "Go on ahead. And thanks for the lunch Cedes. I-"

"You have some kids to watch," Mercedes finished, "And keep an eye on your girl. Got a feeling she's the little trouble-maker between the two. Be right back."

Above them, the sky darkened with harsh gray clouds that stretched out like claws, their immense shadows dimming the once brilliant daylight.

Kurt quietly finished his salad. It was a while since he'd been in a laid-back, casual restaurant. Most of restaurants he'd gone to with Blaine and the Andersons were the five-star, full blown suit kinds were even he had a hard time fulfilling all the proper etiquette rules. Kurt slowly sipped his nonfat mocha, his sight wondering out towards the passerbys and the nearby stores.

There was another restaurant across from them, where the wealthier patrons sat snacking on twenty dollar appetizers. That restaurant had custom tables and chairs woven from bamboo with clean, crisp, ivory cloth gracing the ornate furniture. Spacious cerulean blue umbrellas stood over each glass and silver table. Most of the customers there were in dark suits and dresses, businessmen and women mixing work and pleasure with a little extra on the side.

There was one figure out of the busy, dismal lot that caught Kurt's eye. Or at least her outfit did. Her face was covered by the cool shadow cast by her wide brim hat, a delicate sea blue creation tied with a sheer white scarf. Tiny yellow lights sparkled as the sunlight caught on the brooch holding the scarf to her hat. Her dress consisted of a deeper, richer, blue a-line skirt that stopped at her knees. The top of her dress was of a smooth, pristine ivory shade. The modesty of her high neckline was made up by multiple strings of polished pearls. She sat elegantly, like a well-bred lady, her legs crossed at the ankles. Her soft yellow high heels made her shapely legs seem even longer. Kurt was so preoccupied admiring her that when he looked up, he was surprised to see her staring back at him.

Izzy tugged his sleeve.

"Yes sweetie?" Kurt said, breaking his trance. His daughter pointed outward to the street. There was a crowd gathering in the middle of the walkway. A group of musicians began to play loudly. The low, tender sway of the saxophone coupled with guitars and drums danced through the air.

"Would you like to go see them?" Kurt asked. The two children nodded and quickly helped him clear the table, eager to see the performance. While the kids headed up closer to the stage Kurt watched them carefully from the shade. The band started a medley of the latest hits and the crowd cheered and danced. They were songs Kurt didn't know. He wished that they would play something older, a melody he could sing along with.

Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His head was hurting again, throbbing at the temples. The gathering clouds above didn't do much to take away the heat sinking in the air. It was hot outside. Far too humid and sticky to breathe freely. Kurt felt like his clothes were getting tighter, wrapping around his neck to suffocate him.

"Hey! Watch it kid!"

Kurt's eyes snapped open just in time to see Izzy gliding between the crowds.

"Why must she be so damn stubborn?" Kurt cursed beneath his breath. He shot up and dashed towards her, yelling for her to stop before she hurt herself. She was skating too fast, her feet wobbling uneasily on the pavement. She was headed straight for the fancy restaurant, ready to crash into the patrons dinning outside. To Kurt's relief, she managed to press her heels back, retracting the wheels back into the shoes. Then to his horror, a waiter carrying a tray of drinks swerved while trying to avoid Izzy. The drinks crashed and spilled all over the floor, the ice sliding towards the high-heels of the lady with the blue hat.

Izzy stood there, unsure of what to do. She'd done something wrong. She could feel it as the annoyed, frustrated eyes of the customers fell on her. She put her head down and closed her eyes.

"I am-so sorry," Kurt apologized to the waiter. He was out of breath. The heat made the short distance feel like a mile. He turned Izzy's face up gently, "Didn't I tell you to not use the wheels yet? Sweetie, I tell you these things for a reason. You could have gotten hurt."

Izzy's lips quivered and she hugged him tightly. She didn't want to stay here anymore. Not with all the old, mean people with their dark suits staring at her. They looked at her just like the teachers and parents at her school when she was in trouble. She didn't want to see their ugly faces anymore.

Izzy clung to her Daddy even tighter.

And she didn't want to make her Daddy upset. She didn't want him to give her away. That's what the kids in her school would tell her every day, that her Daddy would get tired of her and bring her back to whatever orphanage, hospital, or street they found her in. She didn't want to believe that her Daddy would do that, but still...what if he did get tired of her? No. No. He wouldn't. He can't. If he did then...then...

Izzy bit her lip, she clamped her eyes shut, and still the tears seeped through.

"Look what you've done," The lady in the blue hat kicked the fallen ice cubes away. She turned towards the waiter, "You've frightened the poor child,"

Her voice was cool, soothing, and soft. Yet the waiter's knees were shaking. He looked like a cobra had struck him between the eyes.

"Well, go back in there and get us new drinks. Bring something for the child as well." She ordered. The waiter rushed back inside, clearly shaken. The other waiters looked horrified, as if they knew their comrade would be a dead man by the time their shift ended.

"I'm so sorry Miss," Kurt said, his arms around the child clinging to his legs, "I'll pay for the drinks. My daughter-"

"Is crying." She finished for him. She pulled up the chair next to her, "Please sit with me. Poor thing could use the shade."

Kurt didn't argue. He sat down on the offered chair and place Izzy on his lap. The child sobbed and buried her face to his neck, finding comfort in the scent of his familiar cologne, imagining they were at Mama Cedes' garden instead. Kurt whispered gently to her, assuring her that he wasn't mad and that she would know better next time. Kurt's eyes searched the crowd. He saw Mickey watching them from a distance, worry written all over his face. Kurt motioned for him to join them. The boy stepped back, shook his head and ran. Fast.

"Mama Cedes! Mama Cedes!" Mickey shouted, running and disappearing into the crowd.

Kurt stood up to go after him, but then Izzy cried again.

"Here," The lady offered him tissues. When their hands touched he was surprised at how soft she felt, like flesh covered in smooth silk.

Kurt thanked her and used the tissues to wipe the tears from his daughter's face. She was settling down now, her sobs ceasing into rough, shallow breaths.

A new waiter returned with drinks on a tray. The lady offered a glass of water to Izzy. The girl refused to even look up. Kurt apologized again and took the glass, offering it to his daughter himself. This time Izzy peeked out just enough to gulp it all down.

"She's a very beautiful girl," The lady said kindly.

Kurt looked up at her, taking in her appearance like a artist admires a masterpiece. She wasn't as young as he expected. In fact, she appeared middle-aged. But there was no doubt she was beautiful in her youth, and the years had a difficult time taking that beauty from her. Her skin was nearly flawless, as smooth and clean as a carved statue. She had eyes of green freckled with blue, with long dark brown lashes curling up above them. Her face was gentle, with shapely pink lips and high cheekbones. Beneath her wide brim hat, her brown hair was pinned back in a loose bun.

"Thank you," Kurt said, "But we have to go. I'm waiting for a friend. She should be arriving soon."

"I'm waiting for someone as well." The lady said. Her smile was soft. Her amused, green eyes drifted back and forth from Kurt to Izzy, "She looks like a handful."

"She is. But I heard girls aren't as troublesome as boys. Or so I've been told," Kurt replied. He looked at the crowd again. Mickey was calling for Mercedes awhile ago, did the boy see her? Or did he go looking for her himself? And why? How come Mickey looked so worried?

"Really now? Because I heard the opposite. People always tell me boys are easier than girls. I wouldn't know though. Never had a daughter. Just a son," The blue lady said, her eyes fixed on Kurt. It sent a chill through him how cold her words became at the mention of her son.

"He loved to skate. Just like your daughter," The lady continued. Her perfect face was still, "I was the one who taught him how to stand on ice. Skating was his favorite thing in the world...before he found other pursuits. My boy had a mind of his own. I hoped I taught him more obedience than that."

Kurt felt uneasy now. The lady calmly smiled and nodded towards Izzy.

"Is she obedient?"

"When she wants to be," Kurt answered. For some reason he held onto Izzy tighter.

"Then I guess it isn't obedience is it Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt stared at her, his former fascination melting into shock. How did she know?

The blue lady twisted the fine pearls around her neck. Her beautiful doe eyes had a quiet fire burning behind them now.

"You don't remember me do you?" She asked, finding amusement in his expression, "I apologize for scaring you. I'm afraid I've been cursed with perfect memory. It makes letting go of grudges very difficult. So I don't even try anymore."

She looked at him from head to toe, sighing lightly as if this was all a game.

"I can look at someone and years later still remember what they wore, said, and did. As clearly as I remember my own name. And I remember you very, very, clearly . Last time I saw you, you were wearing a cap and gown with a diploma in your hand. You haven't aged much. You should be grateful."

"I don't know what your little game is. But I don't know you." Kurt stood up to leave, sheltering his daughter securely in his arms, "And I don't want to."

The blue lady's hand dashed out, her long, elegant fingers gripping him with unseen strength.

"You know what's strange Mr. Hummel? I never wanted to know you either. I wanted to pretend that you didn't exist. But you kept coming back, interfering with everything just by your simple existence."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Kurt pulled away from her hold. If it wasn't for his daughter he would have given her more than those tame words. He would have fought back with all the fire in him. Who was she to tell him off? Or hate him for a reason he didn't even know about? What did he ever do to her?

"What do you want?" Kurt said, stressing each word, "Why the hell are you even talking to me?"

"I wanted to see for myself. I wanted to know what it is about you that would drive my son insane."

The anger in Kurt's face melted.

"Who are you?"

"A mother protecting her only child." The lady answered, her voice steady, yet her eyes blazed. She turned towards Izzy, "Even you can understand that."

"Kurt!"

Mercedes appeared, cutting through the crowd to reach them. She had a bundle of choir robes under one arm. Mickey was hiding behind her.

Kurt was relieved when he saw them.

"Cedes, let's go. I can't stay here." Kurt said. He stepped out into the street and pushed the chair back in hard enough to bump the table.

"Mercedes my dear. Didn't expect to see you here. This isn't exactly the kind of place you usually go to is it? Regardless, it's very nice to see you again." The blue lady stood to her full height, easily looking down upon Mercedes. She lifted her lovely head up to the light, as if to intimidate the shorter, wider woman.

Unfortunately for her, Mercedes wasn't an insecure girl anymore. She had long outgrown that role.

"Can't say the same for you Miss Alyss," Mercedes replied curtly. She handed the robes beneath her arm to Mickey who obediently took them from her. Mercedes crossed her arms defiantly.

"Now you disappoint me." The lady named Alyss said, shaking her head, "From the way my son runs to you for help, I thought you'd be more courteous."

"He wouldn't need to run to me or anyone else for help if it wasn't for you."

"If it wasn't for you and your friends my son would still be speaking with me. You should have just minded the children those thoughtless parents leave you with. "Alyss clenched her long fingers around the pearls so hard Kurt thought she would break the necklace, "After all, there's nothing else a lovely, single woman like you could do except mind children that aren't even yours."

"Well at least I take care of them. Better than some mothers who can't even care for their own flesh and blood."

Mercedes had enough. She took Kurt by the arm and lead him away.

"Dave is doing well by the way. Just thought you might like to know." Mercedes told Alyss with a satisfied smile, "Are you?"

"Mrs. Karofsky. Is there a problem?" A tall, dark man in uniform approached them. He had a stack of folders in his hands.

"Is there?" Alyssandra Karofsky said. She turned to Kurt. There was no kindness in her voice now.

"Izzy baby, go to Mickey for a minute," Kurt whispered. The child obeyed. Mickey took her hand and lead her away, distracting her with talk of skates and bikes. He knew when to go away and let grown ups talk.

"Just stay away from us." Kurt warned when the children were a safe distance away.

"And _you_. Stay away from _my_ David." Alyssandra said. She kept twisting her strings of pearls. In the suffocating heat, Kurt imagined it was her hands twisting around his neck, choking the breath from him.

"I will." Kurt said, "No fucking problem,"

"Try harder." Alyssandra snapped. "For your own sake."

She snatched the folders from the uniformed man.

"Now get out of my property."

"You heard her," The uniformed man's stern face rose above them.

Mercedes pulled Kurt away. She called the kids to her and they made their way to the car. Mercedes told them not to look back. Mercedes and Kurt hurried the kids into the car and sped off back home. Izzy fell promptly asleep, exhausted from the day. Her sweaty, tired head rested on Mickey's thin shoulders. Mickey however, was wide awake from the encounter. He'd seen Alyssandra Karofsky before, when she filed a lawsuit against his father. There were also countless times when the grown ups would talk about her. He didn't understand all of it. But he knew that they didn't like her. At all.

"Remember when you were complaining how everyone just up and welcomed you back with open arms?" Mercedes asked Kurt as she drove, "Well...she's making up for it."

"I did nothing to her," Kurt snapped.

"Obviously she disagrees." Mercedes said, "All I know is there's way too much damn drama between her and Dave. And it somehow involves you. She ain't gonna stop til she gets what she wants. And she wants you out."

"Don't drag me into this," Kurt said. He turned away and faced the window.

"You kinda already are," Mercedes replied.

"She told us to get off her property," Kurt mumbled, "I thought the Karofskys were worse off than we were. Since when did they own anything?"

"The Karofskys aren't rich. But Dave's mom's side is, the Russos. They're very, very rich. With the bitchy attitude to match," Mercedes whispered to Kurt, "And they ain't worried bout hurting feelings or reputations, except their own of course. I'm used to her going after me, Finn, Puck and the rest. We're all Dave's friends. Lady's crazy possessive! She's been trying to bring us all down. She even went at it with Quinn and holy hell, was that a sight! I swear... she tries her tricks on Santana and half of Lima will be blown to bits. Good thing Mickey ran and found me or else she might have clawed you then and there."

"I'm not helpless Cedes," Kurt said. He hated feeling defenseless. He was tired of it, "If can handle Dave. I can handle her."

"Yeah right. Not even Dave can handle her." Mercedes said, "He came out bout' three years after you left. It was a disaster. Whatever his mom's reaction was, it was enough to send him flying to New York. From the way he talked, I thought he was going to drag you back here."

Mercedes glanced at him. He was looking away, but she could see his reflection in window. Maybe it was the distortion of the reflection, but he looked scared, paranoid even. His hands were tightly gripping the seat beat, as if to choke something threatening to tell on him.

"Did you ever...see each other?" Mercedes asked calmly.

"Yes," Kurt whispered. He forced himself to look at her. He needed to show her he had nothing to hide. "But only for a moment."

Mercedes' eyes went back to the road. She wanted to shake her head. Kurt was a terrible liar.

"It was nothing special," Kurt added.

"Really?" Mercedes said, "Cause he never mentioned meeting you."

Kurt's face was still and sober. But his hands were painfully white from gripping the seat belt.

"He probably forgot,"

Just then Mercedes' phone screamed and jumped. Izzy jolted awake, tears still in her eyes. Mercedes yanked the phone from her bag and flicked it open.

"Finn?" Mercedes said. A car honked at them from behind but she ignored it. Instead she went even slower than before, "Hey boy, what's going on? What? I can't hear what you're saying. I can't hear...calm down. Just calm down. What's going on?"

Five seconds later she spun the car around, hitting thirty miles over the speed limit. Kurt and the kids were thrown to the right, everyone clinging to whatever they could hold for dear life.

"What the hell Mercedes?" Kurt screamed, "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

"How far are you? And where's your mom?" Mercedes' ignored Kurt and kept speaking to her cell, " You sure? Okay, okay, just calm down I got...I got Kurt with me. What? Yeah, yeah, sure."

Mercedes pushed her phone into Kurt's hands.

"Take it, " She ordered, "Talk to Finn."

"I-"

"We're not doing this again." Mercedes said, slamming the gas pedal to beat the light, "Pick it up and talk to Finn. It's...it's your Dad."

Kurt did as he was told. From Mercedes' wild driving no one could tell that he was shaking.

"Finn?" Kurt began.

"Hey Kurt," Finn's voice sounded weird over the phone. It was deeper than before, but the same scared, nervous tone was still there.

"What happened? Is it about Dad?"

From the back seat Izzy was all ears. Her Daddy really had a Dad of his own? Since when?

"Oh God Kurt...the hospital. They said some of the neighbors brought him in. Dad fell coming out of the house. They think it's a heart attack. Another one. He was fine yesterday...I don't know. Mom's out of town, won't be back til tomorrow. I can't get there. Damn traffic jam. Had to patch up that fucking school roof on the other town."

"Where is he?" Kurt demanded, "Finn calm down. Where did they put him?"

"St. Luke's Hospital. Cardiac Care Unit." Finn said. His voice cracked over the phone. "Kurt?"

"Yes." Kurt reassured him.

"Just don't leave." Fin said, "I—I'll be there soon. Promise. Just don't leave."

"Fin..." Kurt closed his eyes, not knowing what to say. He didn't expect to miss Finn this much, but he did. Finn with his nervous pleas and innocent, well-meaning stupidity. Tall, strong, bumbling Finn who was both friend and brother. Finn who had been furious when he left.

"I'll see you then. I'll wait. I will," Kurt promised.

"Cool," Finn sounded relieved, as if a huge load had been lifted from him.

Kurt quickly ended the call.

"Kurt, we'll be there soon. Your Dad's not going anywhere." Mercedes said. When she glanced at Kurt his face was buried in his hands, his body shaking.

The minutes stretched long. When they finally entered the hospital a sickening feeling twisted deep in Kurt's chest. The last time he was in a hospital Izzy was born and Marian died.

And death was all over the place, so thick and heavy you could almost feel it in the air. He couldn't even remember what exactly he said to the nurses, but they must have understood him. A nurse spoke his last name and lead him down a cold, blue hallway. Izzy held his hand as if letting go would mean never seeing him again.

"Izzy baby, you need to stay out here with Auntie Cedes and Mickey. They can't let children in." The wasn't sure about the last part. Kurt just didn't want her to see death. He tried to get Izzy to let go of his hand, "It's okay. I'll be okay."

Izzy didn't think so. And judging by how her Daddy looked, he didn't think so either. Still she managed to let go of his hand. She watched him move further down the hallway, memorizing which door he would enter in just in case. Her concentration was broken by a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Come now sweetie," Mercedes said kindly, "Be a brave girl. Can't let him see you cry now right? It'll only make him cry too."

Kurt followed the nurse, his footsteps slowing down the further on they went. He refused to look into the half-open doors leading to dim, pale, colorless rooms full of illness, pain, and death. He hated hospital rooms. It's where he'd lost his dear mother and Marian. It's probably where Mike lost Tina. And now it's where he might lose his Dad.

"Hummel. Room 143," The nurse said, "He hasn't woken since he arrived."

The nurse kept speaking but Kurt wasn't listening. He pushed the door open, slowly at first, afraid to see what twelve years had done to his father. The was still a curtain to be drawn back. Kurt pushed it aside. At the first sight of his father, whatever courage he held onto just snapped and fled him.

He looked so...small, as if he'd wasted away. His face remained stubborn and resilient though, with tough stubble on his jaw and chin. His eyes were closed. He looked like he was simply sleeping, held captive by deep dreams.

Kurt went to his bedside. He tried to remember what happened the first time his father had a heart attack. It had been massive, nearly killing him. They fought over something before it happened. He wished he could remember what it was...He wished for so many things. And barely any of them came true.

"Dad," Kurt reached out for his father's hand. It was far too cool for his comfort, almost like stone, "I'm here now Dad...It's me, Kurt..."

His father didn't stir or speak. The silence broken only by the hum of machines. Kurt waited for what felt like hours, his hands still over Burt's.

"I heard your message last night," Kurt said, "I'm sorry. I didn't answer. I had no idea what to say after I...after what I said before. I guess I...could have apologized. I just didn't know where to begin. I still don't know. Dad..."

His eyes stung anew. Heavy tears fell freely from his eyes, leaving terrible trails on Kurt's porcelain face. The tears went on uninterrupted, his hands faithfully holding on to his father.

"Remember when you were here the first time? I was so terrified of losing you." Kurt said. His lips quivered, "And just two years later I said all those stupid, horrible things to your face. Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I was so stupid I should have...I should have talked things out with you. I should have listened."

Kurt wasn't just reduced to a scared teenager. He had gone beyond that. Now he was just a terrified little boy who wanted his Dad back. In spite of his words, his father remained motionless. Kurt breathed deeply, as if the air would somehow calm the sinking feeling in his heart.

"Dad remember what I said back then? I still believe in you. I always have. Please wake up. Open your eyes please. Move your hand...like last time. Remember? Please Dad, please."

Kurt was begging now, his pleas falling on closed ears. Painful, soundless cries shook and choked him. What had he told his father before in this scenrio? Oh right..that their relationship was sacred to him. And yet what did he do to honor it? He ran away with hateful words and threats, declaring that he no longer needed a father who would never really understand him.

"I was wrong. So fucking wrong Dad. Wrong about Blaine, me, you..I'm so sorry I never got to tell you that. Please help me make it right again Dad, please. Please."

Kurt leaned closer and soon he found himself laying his head against his father's shoulder, a trembling hands still holding on to his father's cold one. He hummed the song he sang in Glee club when the reality of losing his father first hit him, the song by the Beatles...I wanna hold your hand. He tried to sing it but sobs kept them back, creating a twisted, broken melody.

He didn't hear the door open, nor the slow, hesitant footsteps that entered in.

Kurt's face was buried against his father's shoulder, his eyes burning red and wet from heavy tears. He felt a soft touch on his back, gentle yet strong enough to be real. He could sense the presence of someone behind him, and without thinking he turned around and flung himself into the newcomer's arms.

"Fin..." Kurt sobbed openly. He was blinded by grief. He hugged him tight, certain it was his stepbrother who finally arrived.

Arms rose around Kurt and returned his embrace, pulling him closer into the solid chest before him. Even through the rough fabric he could hear a heartbeat, fast, wild, and strong. It was so long since he'd been held like this...like nothing could hurt him and he had nothing to fear. He drew himself deeper into the embrace, weeping openly without shame.

But then his eyes flew open when he caught the familiar scent of his own cologne on the new arrival's shirt.

"Finn?" Kurt asked.

"No," Came the answer, the voice smooth, sad, and deep.

Gentle hands pulled him away and lifted his face up. Kurt blinked as the tears fell clear from his eyes.

Before him stood Dave Karofsky. And in his hands was a beautiful bundle of blue flowers.

* * *

_Something always brings me back to you._  
_It never takes too long._  
_No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone._

_You hold me without touch._  
_You keep me without chains._  
_I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain_

_Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity._  
_Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be._  
_But you're on to me and all over me._

_You loved me 'cause I'm fragile._  
_When I thought that I was strong._  
_But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone._

- _Gravity_, Sara Bareilles

* * *

A/N: Confused as hell yet? Frustrated? Annoyed? Happy? Let me know. For those who care, here are some of the things I want to address/clarify.

*I know there hasn't been a lot of on-screen Dave/Kurt interaction yet. But as seen at the end of the chapter that will quickly change ;) I just needed this chapter as a set up for the rest of the story, especially with the introduction of Dave's mother.

*I'm the type who writes everything for a reason. I guess I'm just ocd that way. Makes the chapters run a little long. Sorry about that folks. This will probably be the longest chapter in this story.

*I know that Marian's story and how she's involved Dave and Kurt's love story is very confusing right now. It shall be cleared later on, but for now enjoy the confusion hehehe ;) This is one of the stories where it makes more sense after reading it a second time all the way through.

*By the way, the song Kurt sang to Izzy was "Baby Mine" from the Disney movie "Dumbo."

Oh, and here's just a few fun questions I wanted to ask. Who do you think will take the first step in fixing their 'relationship'? Dave or Kurt? And who do you think will first suspect that Dave is in fact, Izzy's biological father? Please feel free to share your thoughts, good and bad. I also love reading theories, especially when they're on the right track lol :)


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